


heart's growing grass

by Anonymous



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Roommates, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, the jealousy is strong in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27012991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Iwaizumi gets a girlfriend, and Oikawa doesn't care.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Original Character(s)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 251
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> repost

Friday nights, they hole up in their apartment for a movie and takeout. Iwaizumi brings the movie, usually some sci-fi flick Oikawa's been clamoring to see. He also brings the takeout, usually from the Chinese place a couple blocks down.

Oikawa brings only his natural wit and stunning beauty, but that's enough, or so he tells Iwaizumi.

This Friday, he's taking the time before Iwaizumi's arrival to build a pillow fort too because - well, he's bored, and it'll be just like they're little kids again. He gathers every pillow from the couch and both their beds, sets to work assembling on the living room floor, and wraps up as a knock sounds at the door.

"Open up, I've got takeout. And your shitty movie."

"Iwa-chan, you'll be so proud," Oikawa sings out, throwing a blanket over the whole affair and stepping carefully around the fort. "Remember when we were kids? And I'd stay over and we'd make a pillow fort? Well, I - "

He flings the door open. Iwaizumi is standing there with, yes, the takeout, and yes, the shitty movie, but, oh. He's brought something else too.

Some _one_ else.

"This is Sasaki Tomone," Iwaizumi says awkwardly.

"Aah," says Oikawa.

She's standing in the doorway, bright and sudden in a mint green blouse. She has long eyelashes and a slightly upturned nose and freckles, the kind that he has always secretly coveted. She's smiling.

"I'm so glad to finally meet you," she says. "Iwaizumi tells me you two are childhood friends."

"We are," says Oikawa.

She also has dimples that recede as her smile wavers, and brown hair that brushes her collarbones when she turns to look up at Iwaizumi.

He coughs, glaring at Oikawa: _what's wrong with you?_ "Well, are you gonna let us in or just stand there and stare?"

Oikawa steps aside, stunned, and the girl - Sasaki - follows Iwaizumi in, looking unsure. Oikawa knows on some level that he's probably being rude, but he doesn't care. He kind of wants to grab Iwaizumi by the shoulder, yank him into the kitchen, and demand an explanation.

So he does. "Excuse us, Sasaki-san," he calls out airily, and then ignores Iwaizumi's yelp of protest and pulls him away.

"What. Was. That?"

Iwaizumi shakes Oikawa's hand off his shoulder. "What was what? What's up with you?"

"You know what I mean! Who is that? Why didn't you tell me you were bringing someone?"

Iwaizumi's cheeks color, and for some reason that makes Oikawa's stomach drop. "She's my ... "

"Your what?"

"... my girlfriend," finishes Iwaizumi.

There's a beat. In the distance, Oikawa can hear the sounds of her starting up the movie; she seems to have made herself at home.

"Your girlfriend," Oikawa spits, not knowing why it comes out like that. He tries again, softens his voice. "Your girlfriend."

"Yes," Iwaizumi says, running his hand through the back of his hair until it starts to stand up. "Look, Oikawa, are you upset I sprung this on you? I'm sorry, okay, I was going to tell you much earlier but things kept escalating. And I just didn't know how to tell you then, so I thought - "

That's it, that's what has Oikawa thrown off: the surprise. The sick feeling in his gut dies down a little.

"It's okay," he says, which shuts Iwaizumi up, _hah_. "I know these things slip your mind, Iwa- chan, so forgetful! Never thinking about me, your best friend in the whole universe."

He makes a show of pouting, then turns the corners of his lips up so Iwaizumi won't think he's serious.

Iwaizumi eyes him suspiciously. "Cut the crap, Oikawa."

"Wow, Iwa-chan with a real girlfriend at last. See, I always told you some girls didn't have standards," says Oikawa. "So? How did you two meet? And how long has this been going on?"

Iwaizumi sets the takeout boxes on the kitchen counter and ignores the put-down; he still looks wary. "Tomone's in my structural dynamics class, and a civil E major too. She asked me for help a couple months ago."

"And then you started, what, meeting up?"

"And then we started meeting up."

"Where? At that coffee shop we study at all the time?"

"Yes, at that - Oikawa, what does it matter?" Iwaizumi crosses his arms over his chest, exasperated.

"Hmm," says Oikawa, ignoring him. "A couple months. Not a very long time to know someone."

"No, it isn't," Iwaizumi says.

They look at each other in silence, and for once, it's not comfortable.

"Hajime-kun! How do you turn the subtitles on?" Sasaki calls from the living area, and Iwaizumi finally breaks eye contact as he turns away.

Oikawa wonders briefly if she overheard them, not that it really matters. He follows him back out, picking up the styrofoam containers.

He stands back as Iwaizumi helps her find the remote, feeling out of place in the apartment that he and Iwaizumi have made their home for a semester now. He looks around and takes in the pillow fort, which has already crumpled to a sad heap, small and childish in the middle of the room; he takes in the pile of volleyball gear in the corner that he has yet to wash, and that Iwaizumi has yet to scold him about; he takes in the stupid alien watch on his own wrist, the one Iwaizumi won for him at the claw machine in the supermarket three years ago. He wonders what it all looks like to Sasaki.

As Iwaizumi fiddles with the settings, she looks up at Oikawa and chances a smile, blushing, but not in the way girls usually blush at him.

She's not infatuated with him, he thinks; she's intimidated by him. The movie starts to play. He smiles back.

***

From that weekend onward, Sasaki is just there: studying in the living area with Iwaizumi, eating dinner with them some days, leaving notes and hair ties and smiles on every surface. Oikawa doesn't understand how she can simply insert herself like that, and yet she does it so gracefully that he can't fault her.

One morning he wakes up half an hour late. His first class is at ten, anyway - he'll only miss out on his run. He pads sleepily into the kitchen to pour a glass of water and almost bumps into her.

"Oh! Good morning, Oikawa."

He blinks and jerks back, sloshing a little water out of the pitcher onto his shirt. "Sasaki!"

She looks startled as well, and nervous on top of that, but her clear brown eyes are shining determination. "I - I was wondering if you were busy today?"

"Busy?"

"Well, Hajime and I were planning on taking a trip down to the aquarium, and we were wondering if you'd like to come with us."

Oikawa processes this ( _they go on aquarium dates?_ ) and then gasps. "Like, a third wheel?"

She blushes, which Oikawa is starting to realize she does easily. "No! I only meant ... We just wanted you to have some fun with us ... "

"I've got class today," Oikawa blurts. "And so does Iwaizumi."

"No I don't."

They both turn to see Iwaizumi walking into the kitchen, looking strange in a collared shirt and gray sweater.

"You know how I told you about my weird applied mechanics prof, Oikawa? He canceled today, emailed us something about a 'prior commitment.' Apparently sheep herding is a competitive sport."

Oikawa is focused on the neat cuffs of the white shirt, folded consciously over the sweater sleeves. He doesn't think he's ever seen Iwaizumi voluntarily wear anything but t-shirts and sweatshirts.

Sasaki doesn't notice or mind. She relaxes as he goes to stand next to her and loosely wrap an arm around her waist.

"So, Oikawa? You coming?" Iwaizumi asks.

"It'll be fun," says Sasaki.

Oikawa drags his gaze up from the sleeves. "I have class," he repeats helplessly.

"Oh, please." Iwaizumi snorts. "Oikawa Tooru, caring about schoolwork. That'll be the day."

Somehow the jab manages to rouse him, and he finds his most petulant voice. "Mean, Iwa-chan! I care just enough to keep up my grades for my scholarship, that's all. Not all of us are _nerds_."

"Yeah, whatever. Get ready for class and we can all head out together."

Oikawa huffs and heads back to his bedroom to brush his teeth and work some product into his hair. Iwaizumi walks in as he's rummaging around for clothes, but without Sasaki, which he's grateful for.

"Are you really not coming?"

Oikawa yanks his shirt off by the back of the collar and messes up his hair again in the process. "I can't believe you're encouraging me to skip class. Such a bad boy."

Iwaizumi sits on the edge of the bed, not looking at Oikawa. "It's just one day."

"You never say things like that! It's always _did you study for that statistics quiz?_ or _you're gonna_ _be late to class, Trashykawa!_ "

"Well, maybe I'm tired of babysitting you."

Oikawa glances quickly at Iwaizumi's face - he seems to be kidding. "You would never be. Where else would you find such a talented and delightful charge?"

"The depths of hell, maybe?" mutters Iwaizumi, but Oikawa pretends not to hear and instead starts searching for his favorite red drawstring hoodie.

He ducks into the closet. "You look awfully dashing today, Iwa-chan," he says as he scans the mess. "Careful, or the ladies will be all over you."

"Yeah, right. Tomone would keep them off, anyway."

Oikawa pauses in overturning a box of old t-shirts to consider this, then decides he doesn't like the way it sounds, her name familiar and smooth on his lips. He keeps digging.

Before he can upend a second box, Iwaizumi calls out to him. "Looking for this?"

Oikawa glances back; he's waving something red in the air.

"My prince comes to the rescue! Where'd you find it?"

"Under the bed, you disgusting slob."

He walks over to accept the hoodie and tugs it on. When he resurfaces, Iwaizumi is finally looking at him, expression unreadable. He glances away again when he meets Oikawa's eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He pushes off the bed and heads for the door. "We'll be waiting for you outside."

Oikawa eyes his back. "Are we still watching the UFO special tonight? You promised me we would."

"Only if you don't live tweet it."

***

**Oikawa Tooru** space_kingg 

THEY EXIST!! lol and iwachan said they didn't~~

**Oikawa Tooru** space_kingg

@iwaizumhajime4 did u block me????

 **Oikawa Tooru** space_kingg  
omg @iwaizumhajime4 UNBLOCK ME!!!!

***

Their calculus final is next Monday, and Oikawa is, surprisingly, not panicked.

That's because he has Iwaizumi sitting across from him at their table in the back of the library, his for two whole hours. Lately he's been so busy with schoolwork and tutoring and Sasaki that it feels like Oikawa hardly ever sees him anymore. This study session, he suspects, is Iwaizumi's way of making it up to him.

Oikawa is fine with that.

"Iwa-chan, how do you know what bounds to use for the integral? When you're trying to find the area of the graph?" He shifts his notes over to the other side of the table.

"You have to plug theta values in first and graph, dummy. I told you that already," Iwaizumi says, exasperated.

He leans across the table and angles himself so that he's in line with Oikawa's work. Oikawa breathes in the faint scent of soap and fresh laundry, content to watch Iwaizumi's tanned hands scrawl black-ink numbers into the page.

"There." Iwaizumi pauses and pushes the notes back toward Oikawa. "Just basic algebra, right, to get these r values? So if we graph this ... "

He frowns in concentration as he sketches a quick set of polar axes and draws the swooping curve of a cardioid, upside down so that Oikawa can see it right side up. Somehow, it still comes out perfect and smooth.

"Ah, okay. Thank you, Senpai," says Oikawa, half-mockingly but also half-gratefully. He reaches out to ruffle Iwaizumi's hair, but his teacher has already ducked out of range, wrinkling his nose.

"Any time, Trashykawa."

Oikawa gathers his enhanced notes and sinks low into satisfaction and his chair. Calc 1 is one of the few classes they share, and after their freshman year, they likely won't share any; the paths of a civil engineering major and an economics major will only converge so much. Oikawa has to make the most of it. He doesn't know where else he'll find a study partner this patient with him, this willing to tolerate his unorthodox mnemonics and frantic _study session in 15?? meet at coffee c:_ texts.

Anyway, this right now is ... good. This is normal. Oikawa doesn't want to point fingers, but any time that Sasaki's around, Iwaizumi acts a little funny and stiff, like he's waiting for something and doesn't know when it's coming. Not obviously enough that most people would be able to notice, but when it comes to Iwaizumi, Oikawa is not most people.

He flicks his gaze up over the top of his notes and watches Iwaizumi, who's sitting warm and quiet and sure under the sunlight filtering through the library window. His hair is glowing faintly at the edges.

"Oikawa. Get back to work."

He sticks his tongue out. Iwaizumi peeks up at him without moving his head, then scowls. "Quit staring at me."

"I'm not. I only like to look at beautiful things."

"Yeah, okay, Shittykawa."

They work in silence for another fifteen minutes or so.

Oikawa bumps Iwaizumi's knee under the table with his own. "How do you do number 7? On page 223? I can't figure out how to eliminate the parameter."

Iwaizumi bumps him right back. "I did that one for you a week ago! Don't you pay attention to anything I say?"

"Not particularly." Oikawa makes a show of stretching back into his chair and yawning. "Besides, I'm looking out for you. Think of all the extra practice you're getting in."

Iwaizumi plants his elbow on the desk and props his forehead up with his hand, groaning, but Oikawa thinks he might be hiding a smile too. "What are you going to do without me once I leave?"

He stiffens suddenly and draws his leg away. Oikawa misses the warmth of it until he realizes what Iwaizumi's said.

"Wait, _what_?"

"Uh, nothing."

"Nothing! Why are your ears red, then?"

"They're not!"

"I can always tell when you're hiding something. Like when we were six, and you stowed that stag beetle from recess into your backpack? And then you crushed it and cried? The teacher asked you what was wrong, but - "

"Okay already!"

Not only are Iwaizumi's ears red, but his neck is too. Oikawa's pulse jumps a little; this can't be good. "Spit it out."

"I, uhh ... " Iwaizumi ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck. "I might be moving out."

"Moving out!"

"Yes."

"But why?" he asks, and even though his mind is oddly blank, he already knows.

"I'm going to wait out this term, and once the next one starts, I'll move in with - "

"Sasaki."

"Well, yes."

 _Oh_ , thinks Oikawa. _Oh_. He needs to find a response, fast, because his chest is starting to get tight and heavy, the way it does whenever he's really upset, lying-in-the-hospital-with-a-brace-on-his- knee upset, just-lost-the-spring-playoffs-to-Kageyama upset. That kind of upset.

He can't find anything to say. They're doing it again, staring and silent like they were in the kitchen.

"Aww, Iwa-chan, how romantic!" Oikawa coos, finally getting his voice to work. He thinks he sounds authentic, and his timing is only a couple of seconds off, but this is Iwaizumi in front of him.

"Oikawa," he says, not taking the bait. "I'm sorry. I would've told you sooner, really. But it just never came up, and - "

"That's what you said last time!" Oikawa bursts out. He suddenly doesn't care that he's supposed to be staying calm, and he can't quite keep the whine out of his voice. "I thought we were best friends, right?"

Iwaizumi looks up at the ceiling. "We are best friends. And pipe down, we're in a library."

"Then when were you going to tell me, if it hadn't slipped out? If we're best friends, then - "

"Cut it out with the best friend stuff! You don't have to get all jealous of Tomone, she's not replacing you."

"I - jealous!" Oikawa opens and closes his mouth in indignation. His own face is starting to heat.

"Don't deny it. I know you too well." Iwaizumi looks down at his notes and starts drawing tight spirals on the margins. "And don't worry about that, idiot. We'll always be best friends."

Oikawa's mind is still caught on the word _jealous_.

"What?" asks Iwaizumi, glaring up at him; the flush has risen into his cheeks now. "Come on, Shittykawa, don't make me say it again. This is embarrassing."

_We are best friends, she's not replacing you, we'll always be best friends._ Oikawa parses through it. It sounds okay, no reason to disagree, so he nods, even though his heart is still going quick and nervous. "Whatever," he sniffs. "I wouldn't miss you anyway, Iwa-chan, just your half of the rent."

Iwaizumi looks relieved that he's apparently recovered enough to be rude again. "I can help you look for a roommate," he offers. "Someone I know at Isehara campus has been looking for a place to stay."

"But how will I live without someone to be my mom?"

Iwaizumi suddenly grins, all teeth; Oikawa's chest tightens uneasily. "Oh, I'm sure he'll be a fine replacement."

***

Half a year ago when they both enrolled at Tokai, Oikawa didn't know of anyone else going there. All that mattered was that his and Iwaizumi's majors put them on the Shonan campus together, and that put them in the same apartment.

He hadn't really expected to see anyone from his high school volleyball days again, not at university, and right up until now, he hasn't.

"Refreshing-kun?"

"Nice to see you again, Oikawa."

"You're the friend Iwa-chan was talking about?"

"I mean, I don't see anyone else here with us," says Sugawara with a smile. Is he teasing him?

Iwaizumi returns to the table with their coffees. "Your majesty, vanilla cappuccino with extra foam and _one_ shot of espresso - it's too late for you to be drinking any more than that. Suga, here's your flat white."

"Thank you." Sugawara accepts his drink and sits down opposite Oikawa, who stares.

Iwaizumi drops into the seat next to Oikawa and slides him the barely caffeinated cappuccino. "So? Have you two been reconnecting?"

"Oh, I just got here," says Sugawara. "Oikawa, I haven't seen you in a while. Are you still playing volleyball?"

Oikawa trades a look with Iwaizumi - _why can't he ever warn him about the people he's about to meet?_ \- before replying. "I am. I'm here on scholarship for it."

He feels a glare pressing against his temple, so he hurriedly continues, "What about you? Still playing?"

Sugawara laughs. "Well, you'd know if I were, wouldn't you? We'd be on the same team."

"Oh." Embarrassing. "What are you doing here at Tokai, anyway?" The weight of Iwaizumi's glare intensifies. "I mean, what are you studying?" he amends.

"I'm doing pre-med. It's a pretty good place for that."

Iwaizumi steals a drink of Oikawa's cappuccino, which he still hasn't touched. "Tell Oikawa about the time you roped me in to listen to one of Imai’s lectures and he thought I was a med student too.”

Sugawara covers his mouth with a hand and laughs. He launches into the story with Iwaizumi interjecting occasionally, and Oikawa reclaims his drink and sips it while he half listens. He uses the other half of his attention to study Sugawara.

His voice is nice, he decides, a little reluctantly. He sounds like he should be recording audio books, or teaching a yoga class. He radiates calm, and yet - Oikawa drums his fingers on the tabletop - he has a spark to him. And his eyes are pretty.

“Ahh, I remember now why I called you Refreshing-kun.”

“Don’t interrupt,” reprimands Iwaizumi, but Sugawara, despite being cut off, has perked up.

“Really now?”

“Anyone who could control a group of ruffians like that had to have godly inner strength.”

“They weren’t all ruffians. Maybe just Tanaka, he was the ringleader.”

Oikawa puts a speculative finger up to his lips. “I hear you’re looking for a roommate. Isehara isn’t all that far from Shonan, you know.”

“If that’s an invitation, then I’ll gladly consider,” Sugawara says, though the dimple in his cheek says _I know this is Iwaizumi’s set up, but I’ll play along_. “I’ve been looking for a new place to stay. They’re renovating my dorm hall, and they won’t be done until next year.”

"Well then," says Oikawa. "It's settled. Once Iwa-chan leaves, you can room with me."

"Hey, you can't just toss me aside like that," protests Iwaizumi, and Oikawa bites down a smile of vindictive satisfaction. Serves him right, seeing as he's the one moving out in the first place.

Sugawara starts to talk about his current roommate, who is apparently too into heavy metal and the playing of it at 2 a.m. for Sugawara's taste. Oikawa goes back to half listening and watching. He and Iwaizumi seem close, able to trade jokes and banter easily.

Approximately seven stories of good times, four inside jokes, and three tangents about their old teammates later, the evening starts to draw to a close. Oikawa yawns; he's tired, even though he hasn't said much.

"We should get going," Iwaizumi says, glancing at him. "Hope Oikawa's personality didn't scare you off too much, Suga."

"Oh, he's fine." Sugawara waves a hand in the air dismissively. "I'm sure we'll get along. So I'll see you in October, Oikawa?"

Oikawa stands up, stretches, and flashes him a peace sign. "Of course, Refreshing-kun."

Outside, the air is cool and heavy and comforting. They wave to Sugawara and part ways with him, starting down the sidewalk to head home. Oikawa shivers - autumn is setting in - and links arms with Iwaizumi.

"Hey, we're not little kids anymore," Iwaizumi says, embarrassed. He doesn't shake him off, though.

"It's cold, Iwa-chan."

"And you didn't think to bring a jacket? You're not getting away with that once you start living with Suga, you know."

"I like him," Oikawa muses as they walk.

"I thought you would. He's a good guy."

"How long have you been friends? You never even told me."

Iwaizumi shrugs. "We saw each other at orientation while you were off flirting with the junior tour guides, and we struck up a conversation. He also works at the same tutoring company I do."

Oikawa looks at the ground and tries to time his steps so the two of them are walking in sync. It takes some adjusting, since his stride is longer.

"Iwa-chan?" "Hm?"

He leans into the warmth of Iwaizumi's side. "If you're hiding any other girlfriends or friends from me, you'll tell me, right?"

Iwaizumi scoffs. "Possessiveness is a sure sign of an unhealthy relationship, Trashykawa."

"Iwa-chan!"

"Okay, okay!" He sighs. "Have it your way. I'll tell you all about every interaction I ever have, from the cashier at the corner store to - "

His phone rings. "Hold on." He digs it out of his pocket, unhooking his arm from Oikawa's. "Oh. It's Tomone. Hey."

Oikawa steps back and exhales into the air, wondering if it's cold enough yet for him to see his own breath. It's not.

"Oh, okay ... Yeah, sounds great, Saturday works. I can come meet you? ... Okay. I'm looking forward to it ... You too." He hangs up and pockets the phone. His eyes are bright. "We're going out to dinner on Saturday," he informs Oikawa. "Her dad is in the restaurant business, and he knows all these owners at some of the best places in Tokyo. It's pretty great."

"You really like her, don't you?"

Iwaizumi starts walking again. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I do."

"I'm glad," says Oikawa, and to his credit, he really wants to mean it.


	2. Chapter 2

Friday nights, they hole up in their apartment, and Iwaizumi brings the movie and the takeout. Oikawa builds a pillow fort each time now, and demands they watch from underneath it.

"It's so cramped in here," Iwaizumi complains on the third time it happens as he crawls inside. "Couldn't you build it, you know, a bit bigger?"

"If you bought me more pillows, maybe I could."

Secretly, Oikawa kind of likes how small the fort is. It gets warm inside so much faster, and the tent-like covering of his orange star blanket makes it feel like they're camping. And, if he's being extremely honest with himself, it's his way of willing Sasaki to never come over on movie night again. It hasn't happened since that first time, but Oikawa has had his guard up ever since, along with his too-small-for-three-people forts.

He follows Iwaizumi in and turns around to lie down on his stomach next to him. It's no easy feat to maneuver himself without destroying the fort in the process.

" _So_? Are you ready for _Mothra vs. Godzilla_?"

"Ugh, you know the answer to that."

Oikawa smirks as he starts the movie and reaches outside the fort to drag in the boxes of takeout. Iwaizumi always makes a show of hating on his movie choices, and always ends up with his eyes fixed to the screen, riveted.

They eat their stir fry and watch as Godzilla begins to terrorize the country as usual.

"Are you telling me this _giant moth_ is their only hope here?" asks Iwaizumi a while in.

"Shh, Iwa-chan. Just watch."

Ten minutes later: "Oikawa, these special effects are _awful_."

"Well, I didn't make them!"

But he lapses into silence eventually. Oikawa glances over at him as a shoot-off plays out onscreen, expecting to see him transfixed as usual: mouth slightly open, wide-eyed gaze lit by the bluish glow of the TV. Instead, he finds him propped up on his forearms, texting.

Oikawa raises himself onto his elbows too and looks over to see a string of long messages, interspersed with smiley emojis.

"Texting Sasaki?"

"Mm," says Iwaizumi. He doesn't look up from the screen, where a trail of jumping ellipses indicates that Tomone♥ - _why does she get a heart, when Oikawa gets the trash emoji?_ \- is typing a response.

Oikawa pokes Iwaizumi's shoulder. "Watch the movie," he whines. "Businessman guy just _died_."

"What!" says Iwaizumi, finally looking up. Oikawa side-eyes him for a while, unsure, before settling back down.

Twenty minutes later he again hears the sound of tapping on a phone screen. "Rude Iwa-chan," he says, picking up a discarded chopstick and jabbing him in the side with it. "Would you rather be with her right now?"

"Hey, quit that!" Iwaizumi wrests the chopstick from him and flings it to the other side of the fort; it lodges in between two pillows, and when Oikawa reaches out and retrieves it, the wall collapses in on him.

He shrieks. "You ruined my fort!"

"Your fault it sucked so much in the first place!"

Pretty soon the fort has been dismantled into ammunition that they then put to good use. Oikawa ends up cowering behind the couch, out of pillows and with nowhere else to run.

"Iwa-chan," he says, voice as sweet as he can manage while catching his breath. "You wouldn't do anything to - mmf!"

"Hah!" Iwaizumi winds up with another pillow and stalks closer in a way that makes his heart thrill - he can't remember the last time they messed around like this. "Come here, Trashykawa, I've got another one coming."

Oikawa's eyes dart to the corner of a blanket on the ground nearby. "This is cruel," he says, hand crawling outward along the ground. "I don't even have anything to defend myself with."

"All the better. You don't deserve - gah!"

Oikawa has started whipping him with the blanket. "Oh, please, you like this," he says gleefully as Iwaizumi sinks to the ground, trying to use his pillow as a shield.

"I do _not_ , you're so weird - okay, okay! Stop that," he pants out. "Truce."

"I win!" Oikawa extends a hand to help him up, but Iwaizumi meets his grip with one much stronger, and the glint in his eyes lets Oikawa know he's made a mistake.

"Oof!"

He gets kneed in the stomach as Iwaizumi yanks him down onto the ground with him.

They lie there in a tangle of sheets and pillows, like some sort of makeshift bed on the hardwood floor, until Iwaizumi's triumphant laughter and Oikawa's dying gasps subside.

Oikawa turns his head to look at the forgotten movie. "Oh, look," he says. "Mothra saved Tokyo."

"Get off my legs."

"If you hadn't been texting the whole time, none of this would have happened." He does crawl off, though, and collapses by Iwaizumi, head resting against his chest. Iwaizumi starts to absently run his fingers through his hair, and Oikawa closes his eyes. He feels good and worn out but also exhilarated, the way he does after a really intense practice.

"Sorry about that," says Iwaizumi, so long afterward that Oikawa has to think for a moment about what he last said.

"Hm?"

"About the texting. We were planning move-in day."

Oikawa sits up; Iwaizumi's hand wavers for a moment and drops back down. "Weren't you going to wait until term was over?"

"It practically is. All of my finals are done, anyway."

"So when are you moving out?"

"Sunday, I think."

"Sunday? As in, this Sunday?"

"Yeah," says Iwaizumi, putting his hands behind his head. "Think you could help out?"

"I can't," Oikawa says automatically. "I have a ... " He has something, he knows it, he just can't think of it right now. "I have a, uh, homework to do."

"You have a homework to do."

"Yes."

"Oikawa, you're the worst."

"Fine! I'll help." He gets up in a huff and goes to turn off the TV. Normally they nod off while watching the movie and just fall asleep in the living room, but tonight, he kind of wants to sleep in his own bed.

"Good." Iwaizumi rolls onto his side to look at him. "Did you get in touch with Suga?"

"He's coming - when did he say? The first Monday of October."

"That's the Monday after next, then."

Oikawa pouts. "I'll be alone for a whole week, Iwa-chan. I could _die_."

"You're not going to die," says Iwaizumi. "And besides, I'll come by," he adds on gruffly.

"You're just saying that."

"As if I could avoid it," Iwaizumi replies with a long-suffering sigh. "You'll always find a way to stick to me."

There's really no denying that, so Oikawa lets it go.

***

The next morning, he emerges sleepy-eyed from his room to find Iwaizumi sitting at the kitchen table in just his gray sweatpants, skinning a pear.

"Feed me," Oikawa says, draping himself over Iwaizumi's shoulders from behind. His bare skin is almost hot to the touch, even though the air is morning-cool.

"You're such a whiny child," says Iwaizumi. But he still knifes a chunk out of the pear and puts it in Oikawa's open mouth, where it falls apart soft and sweet.

"So, Iwa-chan? What are our plans for our last day as roommates?"

"First of all, you're going to stop getting pear juice on me."

Oikawa looks down at the trickle collecting in his collarbone and half heartedly wipes it off.

"Second of all, I was going to go on a date with Tomone tonight," continues Iwaizumi unapologetically.

"Oh. Right." Oikawa pushes himself up, a twinge in his stomach, and wanders off to find something for breakfast. "Where are you going this time?"

"Zanmai. She loves sushi."

"How come you never take me to nice restaurants? Is it because I won't sleep with you, Iwa- chan?"

He swears he sees Iwaizumi's knuckles flex around the handle of the knife, so he hastily nabs a milk bread from the refrigerator and goes out onto the balcony to eat.

It's dewy outside, and when he rests his back against the railing he can feel it imprint lines of water onto his shirt. Not that he minds. Soon it'll be too cold to stay on the balcony for long, much less get his clothes a little wet on it.

Iwaizumi stares at him through the kitchen window - Oikawa waves - and then joins him after a while. Oikawa resists the urge to check his hands for the knife.

"What kind of a breakfast is that?" He crosses his arms against the brisk air and leans them next to Oikawa on the railing. Likely, his own lack of clothing is the only thing keeping him from scolding Oikawa for being out here underdressed.

"A good one," says Oikawa through a mouthful. "You want a bite?"

"No thanks." Iwaizumi recoils. "Aren't you supposed to be an athlete? You should eat healthier than that."

"Hmm, better get all that harping out of your system before tomorrow. Girls don't like it when you act like their mom."

"What would _you_ know about what girls like? They only come flocking for your face, and then they run away once they see your personality."

Oikawa looks him up and down, his eyes catching on the waist of Iwaizumi's sweatpants. There's a faint tan line resting on the edge of his hip that he's never noticed before. "Did Iwa-chan just admit I'm pretty?"

"What!? No!"

"How sweet. I still won't sleep with you, though."

" _Oikawa!_ " Iwaizumi looks skyward in defeat.

"Yes?"

"Just let me make you breakfast, idiot. I was going to make myself an omelette anyway."

"Don't act so desperate, Iwa-chan."

***

That afternoon, Oikawa almost trips on Iwaizumi as he's coming back from the laundromat. His setter reflexes are the only thing that saves him from spilling his basket of clothes all over the floor.

"Eeesh, who does push-ups in the middle of the entryway?"

"This is the living room."

Oikawa looks around - it is indeed. He must have been distracted. "Oh. Whatever."

Iwaizumi doesn't pause in doing his push-ups. His form is faultless: arms coming to right angles, back a straight plane. It's still weird that they don't work out together anymore, but now that Iwaizumi no longer plays school volleyball, it only makes sense, Oikawa supposes.

"You look like you could use some help," he says, setting down the basket of laundry.

"Whatever you're about to try, Shittykawa, don't even think about - "

His words are cut off when Oikawa plops down on his back. "Shitty _kawa_!"

"Think how buff you're getting," Oikawa reminds him, reaching out and lazily tracing Iwaizumi's bicep. At first he only does it to rile him up, but the shiver of muscle beneath his hand feels kind of nice, alive and intense, so he keeps doing it.

"You are going to pay," Iwaizumi grinds out through his teeth, though he continues with the push- ups even under the extra weight.

Oikawa snickers. "Does Sasaki like guys with big muscles? Is that why you're working so hard?" He lets his hand wander up past Iwaizumi's shoulder, dip beneath the collar of his t-shirt, and trail lower down the expanse of his upper chest.

" _Oikawa_ \- " Iwaizumi falters.

"Ew, sweaty." Oikawa wipes his hand on the back of Iwaizumi's shirt and stands up.

There's a _thump_ as Iwaizumi finally collapses on the floor.

"Like you don't sweat when you work out."

"No, in fact, I don't. I just glow. Girls absolutely swoon over it."

"Which one of us has the girlfriend right now?"

Oikawa gasps and clutches at his heart. "Iwa-chan, that's a low blow. You did not just play that card. I'm sensitive, you know."

"Sensitive, my ass," says Iwaizumi. He gets up, face red from exertion, and starts to head for the shower while Oikawa trails behind him.

"So mean! I was only trying to help you get stronger."

Iwaizumi stops before the bathroom door, and Oikawa almost bumps into him. "You're awfully clingy today," Iwaizumi says, turning around and leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. "I mean, more so than usual."

"Who, me?" asks Oikawa, indignant. "That's not true! If I were still your captain, I'd make you run laps for such insubordina - "

Iwaizumi shuts the door in his face.

***

That night, Oikawa can't sleep. It's eleven and Iwaizumi still hasn't come home from his date. He's starting to worry. That's normal, right? To worry? Eleven is late to come home, it really is.

So is midnight. And one.

At a quarter to two, he hears soft footsteps outside, the creak of the front door opening, and the dull thunk of someone sliding it carefully back closed. He exhales and rearranges his pillow beneath his head. Now he can sleep.

Except he hears the sound of a shower starting, and then running and running for what feels like a long time, and Oikawa has never been able to fall asleep unless he has total silence. Then the shower turns off, and the sink faucet turns on, and that's loud too.

But he won't go check on Iwaizumi, even if he can't sleep, because that's - clingy, isn't it? And he won't be able to act that way anymore. He closes his eyes and starts to count to a hundred.

At seventeen he gives up and throws off the sheets. He follows the sound of running water to the bathroom, where a slice of light at the bottom of the door illuminates the hallway.

"Iwa-chan?" he whispers.

The faucet shuts off, and the door opens a crack.

"Oikawa?" Iwaizumi whispers back reflexively, then clears his throat and speaks at normal volume. "What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep," says Oikawa, fighting the instinct to stick his hand through the crack so that Iwaizumi can't close it. Luckily, he doesn't have to; Iwaizumi opens the door wider. He's wearing green boxers and a headful of wet hair and a sort of sleepy expression, his eyes dark. Oikawa wonders why he showered again - he took one right before he left, after all - before he smells the faint scent of alcohol and realizes he must have been trying to wash it off.

"Iwa-chan, are you ... drunk?"

"What? No," laughs Iwaizumi, and he opens the door wider still, which Oikawa takes as an invitation to come inside. "We went to Tomone's friend's house after dinner, and I had a couple drinks there. That's all."

"Good," mumbles Oikawa, leaning his forehead on Iwaizumi's shoulder. He's never seen Iwaizumi drunk before, not even in high school when the rest of the team would sometimes gather and party after wins.

Still, he must be at least buzzed, because he lets Oikawa stand like that as he brushes his teeth, and also lets him follow him back to his room.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" Oikawa asks, voice small.

"We're actual adults now, Oikawa."

"Please?"

" ... "

"Iwa-chan ... "

"Fine, get in."

Oikawa goes a little weak with relief. He crawls under the sheets, Iwaizumi climbing in next to him, and relaxes: inhale, exhale. It smells nice, like the fresh rain of Iwaizumi's shower and the unplaceable cleanness - aloe? lavender? cedar? - of the cheap soap he buys.

Oikawa means to ask him how the date went, but it's starting to get too comfortable. His skin is slightly damp still and warm when Oikawa presses his own face against it, and the sheets are so soft and cool, and Oikawa is so tired.

It can wait.

***

Sunday is hectic and dusty. Oikawa regrets ever agreeing to help Iwaizumi move out, because it means much more cleaning than he ever would have expected.

"You can't leave this place filthy for Suga when he comes," is Iwaizumi's rationale, which Oikawa grudgingly acknowledges. They both know that if Oikawa is left to clean by himself once Iwaizumi leaves, it'll never happen.

Sasaki drives over some time around noon with the rental car, wearing a blue dress and heather gray tights.

"Don't you look cute," says Oikawa.

"Oh, thank you." She smiles at him, not noticing the throat-slitting motions that Iwaizumi's drawing with his finger. She also doesn't notice the angelic wave that Oikawa sends Iwaizumi when she turns around to give him a hug of greeting.

Oikawa likes the way Iwaizumi's eyes are on him while he's hugging his girlfriend, even if they're narrowed.

"We were just going to clean as we went, but you don't have to do that," Iwaizumi informs her when they break apart.

"Oh, it's no problem. I love to clean."

_Of course she does_ , thinks Oikawa.

So the three of them get to work. There's still plenty to tackle, between packing up Iwaizumi's belongings and tidying in their wake. Oikawa hasn't realized it until now, but Iwaizumi has a lot of stuff here. Both of them do. They've really taken settling in to heart.

"Iwa-chan, do you want to keep the shrine I made for you around the screenshot of that text from Mattsun? The one that said _'lol but iwaizumi has nice arms.. they look like they could hold u tight at night_.' It's still set up in the back of your closet."

"You know what, Oikawa, you can keep it."

"Oh, Iwa-chan, where do you want the _porn magazines_ you keep under your bed? This box is full."

"I - what! I do not keep porn magazines under my bed. Or anywhere else."

"Iwa-chan, all this time? You still have the picture of us on elementary school graduation day! Gosh - look at your little noodle arms, nothing like they are now."

"Give that here!"

Sasaki takes in all their exchanges as they work with bemusement, but she also laughs. For some reason it irks Oikawa, as much as he's doing it because he knows it's funny.

"You know, Sasaki, thank you for helping us out," he tells her as he passes her in the hallway with a basket of wet rags. "Iwa-chan and I could've handled it, so you really didn't have to do this."

She looks up from the floor that she's sweeping and smiles at him prettily, sincerely. "No, I really did," she says. "After all, it's my fault he's moving out, isn't it?"

Oikawa accidentally laughs harder than he means to. "Well! You're right about that."

She only giggles. Compared to when they first met a month ago, and especially now that they've spent a couple hours cleaning together, she seems to be more relaxed in his presence.

Iwaizumi, on the other hand, not-so-softly jostles Oikawa as he passes them. "Get to work, dumbass," he hisses into his ear, voice low.

Oikawa fake-shivers. "Are you my boss now, Iwa-chan?"

"Just stop harassing Tomone," he says over his shoulder.

It takes most of the afternoon to get Iwaizumi's stuff packed and the rest of the apartment cleaned. Oikawa is sweating by the time they're done, and his skin is crawling with dust. He's itching for a shower.

They gather in the living room to survey their work. It looks empty.

"Wow, it looks great," says Sasaki.

"Yeah," Iwaizumi agrees. "Oikawa, promise you won't mess it up again immediately."

"So little faith."

Iwaizumi gives him a knowing glare, but just bends down and picks up a box filled with clothes. "Well, guess we'd better load this stuff in the car."

Oikawa looks out the window at the blue sedan. It seems small, but then again, Iwaizumi's not taking any furniture or anything with him. "You guys go on," he says. "I just forgot, I haven't dusted Iwaizumi's room yet."

Really, he just doesn't want to stand around in the empty den with them anymore, but when he walks into Iwaizumi's room, it looks even worse. He can't even tell anyone was living there just a few hours ago; it's spare as a hotel room and just as impersonal. But he's not about to go back out there, so he has no choice but to stay.

He's idly trailing the feather duster along the top of the bookshelf when Iwaizumi walks in a few minutes later.

"Looks like we're all done," Iwaizumi tells him, hands in his pockets.

Oikawa sweeps the duster off the shelf and accidentally rains down a fine layer of dust on both of them; he sneezes and shuts his eyes tight against it. "Ahh, sorry."

Iwaizumi steps back, waving the air in front of him. "It's okay, I'll just shower at Tomone's place."

"Right." Oikawa squints at him. Despite his best efforts, his eyes are getting irritated. "So, Iwa- chan. Moving in with a girl. Never thought I'd see the day."

"Neither did I, honestly."

"Yet here we are."

"Here we are."

Oikawa regards Iwaizumi through his eyelashes. He's wearing old track pants and a loose gray t- shirt so faded the letters are mere imprints, and his inky hair is sticking up worse than usual, and there's a faint sheen of perspiration around his shoulders and neck. Oikawa takes half a step toward him. "I - "

"Well, I guess I'd better go. Tomone's waiting in the car," Iwaizumi says, gesturing behind himself. He hesitates. "And take care of yourself, you idiot."

Then he really does go.

Oikawa waits until he hears the front door close before he hurries into the living room and posts himself by the window. He watches the car start, watches Sasaki adjust the rearview mirror and say something as she backs up, watches Iwaizumi watch their apartment as they drive out of the lot.

Well, really it's Oikawa's apartment now.

***

It's the quietest week of his life. No one tells him to wear more clothes or take less time in the bathroom doing his hair. It feels like freedom in the worst way possible.

But he gets used to it, or he likes to think he does, anyway. He goes for his morning runs and works himself hard at practice and studies his afternoons away in Iwaizumi's room - the light is better there for his eyes. He takes a lot of naps.

He hates admitting it, but things are strange, and dull. Never has he had to live without the constancy of Iwaizumi's presence. If Oikawa closes his eyes, he can picture all those years from before and all those days in them flipping past like pages of a book, a blur of hundreds of dripping ice pops, volleyball serves, and blue-sky train rides home together. It seems impossible that each and every one of those days has actually passed at some point, spanned the full lazy twenty-four hours allotted to it.

They still see each other, of course. Iwaizumi drops by three times during that week. Once to make sure he still has groceries, and twice 'just to check.' Oikawa thinks Iwaizumi maybe doesn't trust him to be able to live alone, but he doesn't mind the check-ups.

They also meet up once at their coffee shop to study. Oikawa prods him for information there - _what's it like not living the bachelor life anymore? is it hard? is it weird? do they, y'know, sleep together?_ The last one earns him a smack on the head but no response.

On Thursday, they sit next to each other for their calculus class as usual. Oikawa props his legs up on Iwaizumi's lap during lecture and spends the whole time doodling over Iwaizumi's notes. Iwaizumi doesn't take kindly to this, and threatens to block him on all social media, not just Twitter.

So they're hardly estranged, but it's still not the same as living together.

He's relieved when his new roommate finally shows up.

"Hi," says Sugawara that Monday afternoon. He's standing in the doorway with a couple of boxes, a large suitcase, and a backpack that Oikawa should probably help him with. Instead, Oikawa temporarily forgoes manners and lunges in for a hug, surprising even himself.

"Suga!"

"Whoa!" Sugawara drops the boxes and grabs onto the doorframe for balance. He laughs, patting Oikawa's hair. "You're, ah, happy to see me. Have you been lonely or something?"

"Or something," says Oikawa, stepping back slightly abashed. He likes the way that Sugawara's not the least bit thrown off, being called a nickname and suddenly hugged by someone he really doesn't even know that well, and that makes Oikawa feel like they _do_ know each other well.

He takes the suitcase from him and leads him through the living room. "Come on, I'll take you to Iwa-chan's old room."

Sugawara follows him in. The room has just a few basic furnishings, but it should do. Oikawa walks over to the window and throws aside the curtains.

" _So?_ What do you think?"

"I like it," says Sugawara, blinking in the light. He sets his backpack onto the desk chair. "It's a lot bigger than my old dorm. And nicer."

"Of course. Iwa-chan and I spent three months scoping out the perfect place, after all."

"Oh? Had you two always planned to go to university together?"

"Well, I guess," Oikawa says. "It wasn't planning so much as it was ... assuming. We didn't really have to talk about it once we both got in."

Sugawara walks over to the bed and sits down on it, testing the springs gently. "That sounds nice. Daichi and I wanted to go together too, but he ended up at Kaetsu. He got a scholarship there that was too good to turn down."

_Oh_ , remembers Oikawa, _the Karasuno captain_. Sugawara sounds faintly sad, but mostly proud of him.

"Do you still see him often?"

"Only for breaks but, I mean, it's _Daichi._ " He shrugs easily. "When you've been best friends for that long, a little distance isn't going to get in the way."

Oikawa tilts his head, considering this as Sugawara gets up and begins to poke around the room. He lets the words wash through him a second time, and then once more. He really, really, hopes that they're right.

***

iwa chan did u take my fancy blow dryer???!

**it's in the kitchen cabinet by the stove**

**you left it there after you made soggy bread and tried to blow dry it**

ohh right x) haha thx :))

**np**

**about to head over actually**

awww iwachan misses me! ;)

**yeah no. tomone made extra soup i thought you might want it**

lolll same thing, what a tsundere~

iwa chan?

iwa chan i'm sorry!

just pls come over :PP

**so needy. omw**

***

If he takes into account the past three and a half weeks, remembers to add in the extra two times they met up to exchange clothing of each other's that they inexplicably still had, and determines that 'seeing each other' means actually talking (which strikes out the time he saw Iwaizumi crossing the street from afar), then Oikawa works it out to be a mean of about 4.714 times that he and Iwaizumi see each other per week now.

Which is fine. 4.714 is a high weekly average, for people who aren't roommates.

He wonders what Iwaizumi's weekly averages are for everyone else. For Sugawara, probably just a couple of times shy of their own, somewhere around three. For that genius TA that he idolizes and asks to read his term papers all the time, probably one or two. For Sasaki - well, there's really no way to count that, since they're always together now. He wants to know what they do in all that time, but whenever he asks, Iwaizumi just says 'I don't know' or 'normal people stuff' or 'Shittykawa get to work already your calculus isn't going to solve itself.'

Oikawa, for one, has nothing but time to himself now. He takes to milling around the apartment listlessly, playing games of volleyball with the walls until Sugawara snaps one day.

"Oikawa!"

He fumbles and nearly drops the volleyball. "Yes, Suga?"

Sugawara sets aside his textbook and pats the spot on the couch next to him, and Oikawa goes over and sits.

"You've been bored lately, haven't you."

It's not a question. Oikawa tries to act like it is. "No, I haven't," he says.

"You have."

"I have _n_ \- "

"It's okay," says Sugawara sincerely. "I'd just like to offer you a chance to be un-bored."

"Why, Suga, that sounds like a ... proposition."

Sugawara only grins. By now, he's completely unaffected by any variant of Oikawa's suggestive voice. "Oikawa, have you been to a house party here yet?"

"No, Iwa-chan and I don't like to go. But I've gone to a few in high school."

"Well, what do you say we go to your first college one?"

Oikawa is silenced for a moment. "Wow," he marvels. "And here Iwa-chan thought you were going to be my mom."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing," says Oikawa quickly. "Sure, I'll go." Why shouldn't he? It'll be more lively than ... this, whatever this is.

"Oh, good. There's one tonight - a friend of mine, someone else from Isehara, is throwing it."

"Okay," Oikawa says. "But I'll have you know, I don't drink."

***

The first shot _burns_ , which is a description he's always assumed was an exaggeration. It's not. It leaves a trail of sharp fire in its wake and a bitter taste that turns his mouth. Oikawa regrets it briefly, but the girl who offered it has such happy eyes and looks so pleased with him for trying it that he can't feel bad.

The second one he goes and gets himself. It stings just as much, but it's pink and vaguely fruity too, and he can't decide if that's better or worse. After that he switches to beers, which, compared to the shots, go down like water.

It's quite some time later, when he's staring into the black pinpoint pupils of someone high on something talking about their band playing somewhere, that the creeping realization finally becomes too insistent to ignore: somehow, he's lost Sugawara.

"Do y'know ... where Suga is?" he interrupts, cutting Pupils off as best he can with his mouth not cooperating. He tries to remember where his surrogate guardian could have gone, but the truth is that sometime after the fourth drink, the night had started to blur around the edges.

"Dude, who?" asks his acquaintance.

"Suga," repeats Oikawa, latching onto the name. He needs to find him, because he can't remember much from earlier, but one thing imprinted in him is a forceful _stay right here, wait for me,_ which he thinks he's probably disobeyed.

Mind swirling alarmingly, he pushes himself off the couch and stands on unsteady legs, trying to locate a bright shock of hair somewhere in the room full of people and noise. He should never have accepted that first shot out in the backyard.

"Are you, like, okay? Did you have too much to drink?" asks the guy, which is frankly pretty insulting to hear from someone who's clearly had much worse than alcohol, but Oikawa ignores him and begins to push through the crowd.

Suga, Suga, Suga. Where is he? The bass of the music is pounding low and fast, and his own heart quickens to sync with it into a panicky rhythm. Oikawa starts searching more urgently, turning people's shoulders toward him until their surprised faces reveal nothing he's looking for, and his anxiety ramps up with each blank-eyed gaze he gets. He's here somewhere, he has to be, Oikawa just has to look for that light hair - or is it dark hair, and eyes the same color? "Suga," he whispers, though the word has lost meaning with repetition, as words do, and now he's just looking for someone with the scent of cheap soap and fresh laundry -

"Oikawa? What the hell?"

"Iwa-chan," he sighs, and flings his arms unthinkingly over those broad, safe shoulders. "I couldn't find you."

"What? You didn't even know I was here," says Iwaizumi, bewildered, but his hand starts rubbing comforting circles on Oikawa's back and that's all that matters. "Since when do you go to parties?"

"Suga," Oikawa mumbles in explanation into his neck. It comes out easily since he's been thinking it so much, which is good because it's too hard and too tiring to think at all now.

" _Huh_ , I didn't know he went to parties either," says Iwaizumi, drawing back. He wrinkles his nose. "Wait, Oikawa, are you drunk?"

Oikawa closes his eyes and lets out a small whine when the circles stop. He reaches for Iwaizumi's hand, misses, and grabs it on the second try, putting it on his back again.

"Oh my God, you totally are. I'm going to kill Suga," says Iwaizumi, sounding faraway even though he's right there.

Oikawa says nothing. He's so comfortable right now on this shoulder that he could fall asleep.

"Oh no, why, Shittykawa, you're falling asleep," Iwaizumi groans. "Tomone, think you can wait here for me for a bit? I'm going to take him home."

_That_ gets him to open his eyes. "Sasaki?" he murmurs, raising his head off Iwaizumi's shoulder, and then his eyes focus and he sees her standing a couple of feet behind Iwaizumi. She's watching them.

"Of course," he hears her say, and she sounds a little strange, but Iwaizumi only calls out a _thanks_ so it must be okay. Oikawa closes his eyes again as Iwaizumi slings one of his arms around his own shoulders and walks him out the door, supporting his weight.

Iwaizumi berates him when the cold of the night hits them, berates him when they get into the taxi he calls, and berates him when they stumble over the threshold of the apartment. But he never once lets go. The whole time they're going home it feels like they're moving underwater, dreamy and languid.

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa slurs, managing to resurface somewhat as Iwaizumi guides him to sit down on his bed. "You're so good to me."

"Don't I know it," mutters Iwaizumi, pulling off Oikawa's shoes, then his socks, then his pants. He pushes him lightly on the shoulder, letting him fall back onto the bed.

"Do you need water or anything? I should probably get you some for the morning anyway. You're going to be hungover as hell."

"You," says Oikawa.

"Huh?"

"Stay, Iwa-chan."

"I can't, I don't live here anymore, remember?"

"You can sleep here."

Iwaizumi exhales and covers Oikawa with his quilt, pulling it up to his chin. "I gotta go. Tomone's waiting for me." He pulls Oikawa's legs up farther onto the bed. "Can't believe you went and got wasted the moment I stopped watching you... "

Oikawa wants to defend himself, say that it's actually been over three weeks since he stopped watching him, but more than that he wants to sleep, and even more than that he wants to grab Iwaizumi's wrist. He reaches out and does it with some effort. "Please, Iwa-chan," he begs. "I know we're not little kids anymore... "

It's this concession, stolen from Iwaizumi's very vocabulary, that seems to finally sway him. "Okay," he says, surrendering. "Fine. You can have it your way like always."

Oikawa waits in a sort of half-conscious stasis while Iwaizumi retrieves the glass of water and texts Sasaki and undresses and, at last, gets in next to him. Then he drapes himself half over Iwaizumi, who grumbles but lets him do it.

He falls asleep feeling the thrum of a slow heartbeat and not knowing or caring whose it is.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Oikawa Tooru fucks up and knows what to do. Other times, he doesn't have a clue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy.

"Where were you?!"

"Hnngh," says Oikawa, sitting bolt upright at the sound of Sugawara's concerned parent voice. He immediately regrets it. Pain splits through his skull so fast that it knocks the wind out of him, and he falls back onto the bed.

He throws an arm over his face to shade his eyes from the indecent light spilling into the room. Sugawara's lips are pursed, and Oikawa can almost imagine him saying _I'm not angry, just disappointed._

But he doesn't say that. He says, "I told you to stay in the backyard and wait while I found my friend, and then when I came back you were gone, and then I had to find out from some drugged up philosophy major that you left on the arm of a 'tanned hunk with serious guns.'"

"That was Iwa-chan," Oikawa groans. It's unfortunate that he's too weak to care right now, because he knows that future Oikawa would love to recount to Iwaizumi word for word the phrase _tanned hunk with serious guns_.

Sugawara sighs. "Of course it was," he says, one hand pressed to his own forehead. "Here, drink your water. At least you had the foresight to get this for yourself."

Oikawa accepts the glass and gulps it down gingerly. His throat and mouth are still just as dry afterward. "Wait, where's Iwa-chan?"

"Hm? I didn't see him around when I got up. Did he sleep over here last night?"

"Ah, no," says Oikawa reflexively, frowning. He reaches out a hand, as though he were just stretching; the spot next to him on the bed is cool. Suddenly, last night shoots through him - a haze of noise and people and panic, then the calm of dark eyes flickering back and forth as they looked at him, then his own voice, pleading with Iwaizumi to stay.

He doesn't know if it's the hangover or remembering how he acted, desperate and unguarded, that makes him feel so uneasy.

Sugawara, fluttery and still worried, insists that Oikawa stays in bed while he makes him breakfast and goes out to buy some aspirin. Oikawa acquiesces. Some small, ungrateful part of him wishes it were Iwaizumi doing this for him instead, but he quickly shuts it down in favor of lying there as still as possible, eyes shut and mind blank.

After the aspirin, some porridge, and a hot shower, Oikawa feels almost human enough to get on with his day. He issues a proper apology to Sugawara for causing him such strife last night, and is immediately forgiven. He halfheartedly cleans his room, straightening the books and papers that have been strewn everywhere over the course of the week. He goes down to the laundromat with a basket of clothes, reads some of his microeconomics text while he's waiting for them to cycle, and comes back with sandwiches from the deli for himself and Sugawara.

He checks his phone continuously, but he doesn't get any messages.

For dinner, Sugawara is going out to eat with some of his pre-med friends.

"Will you be okay?" he asks Oikawa, hesitating in the doorway as he buttons his coat. "You can come if you want, really. They're all nice people."

Oikawa is touched, even though he's come to expect this kind of behavior from Sugawara. "Thanks, Suga, but I don't think I will," he says. "I'll be fine staying in."

So it's a quiet night for him. He does some homework, tripping over the calculus as usual, and resists the temptation of simply bookmarking the harder problems for Iwaizumi to explain to him later. When he finishes as much as he can, he calls his sister to catch up with her. She lives in Osaka now because of her new job there, which means they don't see each other often. He learns that she and her boyfriend are getting serious and teases her about it accordingly. She promises to come down and visit him some day.

After that, he's at a loss for what to do next. Which means there's really only one thing to do.

He grabs his duffel bag, which is Tokai's official navy blue, and his keys and phone. He steps into his sneakers - no jacket, seeing as no one is here to scold him for it - and heads out the door.

The gym is empty when he arrives, winded from his walk in the cold. It's kind of a relief; he feels awkward around the rest of the team still, like a puzzle piece whose edges don't quite match up with the rest. It makes him miss Seijou, Mattsun and Makki and Yahaba and even Mad Dog-chan. With them, he always knew how he fit.

Even though no one's there, he goes to the locker room to change into his workout clothes, unwilling to break habit. The court is eerie and half dark when he steps back onto it, and it magnifies the squeaks of his shoes into sharp-sounding echoes.

Oikawa selects a ball from the cart, dribbles it on the ground a couple of times, and serves it, hard. It lands on the opposite side of the court and ricochets off into the corner of the gym.

He serves again.

And again.

And again.

When all the balls on the rack are scattered across the floor, he gathers them up and starts a second round.

He has the fourth ball spinning in midair when he becomes aware of the sliver of light shifting on the slick wood floor. His eyes drift over, and when he has them trained on the ball again it's too late. Oikawa slams down on it anyway and waits as it catches on the edge of the net.

"Thought you'd be here."

The sliver of light widens as the gym door opens further. Oikawa doesn't turn around. His heart lightens - he must have been, on some level, hoping Iwaizumi would come.

He wills it back into submission and picks up another volleyball, watching both their shadows on the ground as Iwaizumi's approaches, growing larger. Then he's not just a shadow, he's there, and his hand is on Oikawa's shoulder.

Oikawa thinks of waking up alone that morning, after begging Iwaizumi to stay there with him last night, and his gut clenches at just how - _annoying_ all of it is. He forces himself to shake Iwaizumi's hand off under the guise of serving another ball. This one makes it over, and lands with a thud almost at the edge of the baseline.

"Hey, at least look at me," says Iwaizumi after it stops bouncing. "I came all the way here to find you."

"Hello, Iwa-chan," Oikawa says pleasantly to the other side of the court.

Iwaizumi pauses before apparently making some sort of decision, and Oikawa feels a breeze as he leaves his side, walks across the court, and ducks beneath the net. "Oikawa, what's wrong?"

"Why does anything have to be wrong?" Now that Iwaizumi's across from him, he finally and reluctantly looks at him. Iwaizumi stares right back.

Oikawa drops his gaze and prepares for another serve, wondering if he should hold back. He decides against it and practically spikes it over the net. Iwaizumi stumbles as he receives, but he gets it squarely back over - they haven't played together in months now, but they know each other on the court as well as ever.

"Come on," says Iwaizumi as Oikawa sets the ball back over. "You've never been able to hide it from me."

_Bump._ He returns the hit.

And he's right. Iwaizumi has always clued in when things have gone wrong: bad test scores, imperfect matches, ex-girlfriend troubles. He's always pressed Oikawa until he found out what it was. It's not like he's going to give in now.

_Bump._ "I got one less compliment on my hair this week than I did the last," Oikawa huffs.

_Bump._ "Yeah right. Tell me the truth."

_Bump._ "What? That is the truth."

_Bump._ "Does this have anything to do with me leaving this morning without telling you?"

_Oh._ He knows, then. Oikawa catches the ball as it arcs through the air toward him and spins it between the pads of his fingers.

He knows, and it's so unfair, and it makes Oikawa hot and itchy inside. He tips his chin up and says, "What, that? I didn't even notice. In fact" - he lowers his voice suggestively - "most of the time, I'm the one sneaking out of someone else's bed early."

He actually hasn't slept with anyone since coming to college, but Iwaizumi flinches, almost imperceptibly. "Ugh, I don't have to know about your ... sleeping habits," he says, crossing his arms. "Just, I had to get up early and drop Tomone off at the airport."

"And what, that kept you from texting the whole day too?" Oikawa blurts before he can stop himself.

"I swear, Oikawa, you act like we're in a relationship."

His blood ices in his veins. "I do not," he says stonily, unable to think of anything snappier. "You wish."

"Oh, really?" Iwaizumi's face hardens a fraction and then smooths out so fast Oikawa can't be sure he didn't imagine it.

It doesn't matter. His legs, his arms, are itching for him to do something fast. "Yes!" he snarls, and throws the ball up in the air without warning and jump serves it, viciously. This one, Iwaizumi barely reacts to in time. It glances off his outstretched forearm and falls down short on Oikawa's side of the net.

He dives forward to save it unthinkingly - _don't let it touch the floor_.

It clears the net, but Iwaizumi's in a good position and merely spikes it back, sending it deliberately to the far side of the court. "Well, if I didn't know better," he says as Oikawa scrambles back up and lunges the other direction, "I'd think that's what _you_ wish."

He lands hard on his hip as he falls, but manages to stick his fist out beneath the ball and send it up and over. When he looks up, Iwaizumi's stare is pinning him through the mesh of the net.

Oikawa stares back, slightly open-mouthed. It's just a juvenile turnaround, but for some reason, he can't move.

Iwaizumi hits the ball without looking at it, and it drops down on Oikawa's side of the court: game over.

He whips his head around to watch it roll off to the side, then gets up stiffly and brushes the dust off his shorts with his back facing Iwaizumi. He's vaguely aware of a numbness in his chest.

"You're wrong, Iwa-chan," he says, keeping his voice light. "I have good taste, you know? And the universe would never allow it. I'm out of your league."

"Your lack of humility never fails to disgust me," Iwaizumi replies dryly.

There's tension in the air and Oikawa knows he can't be the only one feeling it, but still Iwaizumi sounds so unaffected and harmlessly insulting and familiar when he says it, as if they're sixteen and in the halls of Seijou and Oikawa has just signed yet another autograph for some lovestruck girl, and the frustrating _normality_ of it is what finally unfreezes him.

"But my looks don't disgust you," he says, turning and advancing on Iwaizumi, no longer caring, "do they?" His shoulders are rising into sharp, aggressive, hunting-stance points, like they do when he's trying to work his height against someone, but he can't be bothered - he wants to make Iwaizumi feel as uncomfortable as he does, wants to put him on edge, wants to make him nervous.

"Oh, don't worry," says Iwaizumi neutrally. "They do that too."

Oikawa hates this. He approaches the net as he pulls the collar of his shirt up over his nose, the way he's done so many times before during practices, like he's wiping off sweat. Iwaizumi's eyes flicker down to his waist.

He lets the shirt drop. "Sure they do," he scoffs. "You say that - "

But Iwaizumi's impassive face is shifting into a frown. He reaches under the net and lifts the hem of his shirt back up again.

"What are you – “

"It's going to bruise," Iwaizumi says, the strangeness in his voice already gone.

Oikawa looks down, heart thudding; the skin around his hip where he landed is purpling. When Iwaizumi's fingertips brush against it, it doesn't hurt yet, but he still swallows and steps back and out of range.

Iwaizumi's hand falls to his side. "Dumbass, why'd you have to dive for that? It's just practice. If you can even call it that."

Oikawa scowls. "And let you beat me without a fight? Never."

He gets only a sigh and a mumbled _why are you like this_ before Iwaizumi ducks back under the net and joins him on his side. He starts picking up the volleyballs scattered around the court while Oikawa looks on, lost and still tense.

Iwaizumi glances back at him and raises an eyebrow - _are you going to help?_

The subject, whatever it was, is beyond pursuit now. Oikawa feels his posture slacken in a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.

They put up the equipment and then walk together to the locker room so Oikawa can gather his clothes. The silence is delicate.

"Why were you taking Sasaki to the airport anyway?" Oikawa asks carefully.

"Oh, yeah. She's going to Osaka University for a while."

He refuses to let his spirits lift at that, not when unease is still nagging at him. "Why's that? Did she get so sick of you she transferred schools, Iwa-chan?"

Iwaizumi shoots him a look. "No, Mech E 103 is taking a study trip there. They'll be back in just a few weeks."

Oikawa finishes stuffing the clothes he came in into his duffel - he'll shower at home. "I always knew you wouldn't be able to keep a girlfriend for long," he says, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Shut up," Iwaizumi orders. Oikawa has heard him say it countless times over the years, but this time, he checks Iwaizumi's expression just to make sure he's not actually mad.

He doesn't seem to be. They head out together, Iwaizumi shouldering the gym door open and holding it for Oikawa.

Everything is the same, and yet, Oikawa thinks as he watches Iwaizumi lead the way into the night, they've crossed some line.

***

They're on opposite sides of the net, passing a volleyball back and forth.

_Jealousy is a sure sign of an unhealthy relationship_ , Iwaizumi tells him. _We are not in a relationship_ , Oikawa insists. He hits the ball, but it sinks into the middle of the net and bounces off pathetically.

Before he can regather himself, there's already another one coming at him, soaring straight toward his head, and he sets it quickly, but then Iwaizumi serves another one and another one after that and they just keep impossibly coming. _Come on,_ he says, _how are we ever going to beat Shiratorizawa if you don't practice, Captain?_

And it makes natural, perfect sense, that they're going to play Shiratorizawa, so Oikawa tries his best to receive Iwaizumi's serves, but they're flying at him so fast and relentless that he finds himself giving up and just stands there, bent over, hands on knees.

Iwaizumi stops too. _It's already bruising_ , he says, and Oikawa straightens and looks down at himself but can't see anything, and when he looks back up they're standing in their apartment and sunlight is pouring in and Iwaizumi is right there in front of him lifting Oikawa's shirt but there is no bruise, just his skin, skin that Iwaizumi's skating his fingertips over, rough and warm -

He wakes up breathless, shirt sticking to his back with sweat. Iwaizumi's dream touch is still on his waist. When he clutches for it, he half expects it to be real.

Under the crack of the door, the faint bluish glow of the hallway night light seeps into his room. The silence of the apartment swallows his shuddering breaths.

Oikawa strips the shirt off with shaking hands and flings it across the room. He flips his pillow over to the cooler side and lies back down, but the quickness of his heart tells him that falling back asleep won't be easy.

***

He doesn't bother expecting that he and Iwaizumi will see each other all the time just because of Sasaki's absence, that it'll all go back to normal. He's sure it won't happen.

And even if it were to happen, Oikawa is too busy these days. He has team practices to attend and his individual practice regimen to adhere to and homework to do and clubs to ingratiate himself with. Things have picked up pace since the fall semester.

His schedule doesn't leave him much time for sleeping or eating, but after all, it's college. This sort of life is normal.

Sugawara doesn't think so.

"Won't you at least have breakfast first?" he asks before Oikawa stumbles out of the house in his running gear, to which Oikawa replies that he'll have it later (he won't).

"Oikawa, you're making this far harder on yourself than it needs to be. You said you'd sleep by midnight," he tells him when he finds him hunched over notes at one in the morning, and Oikawa promises he'll turn in soon (but he just has a few problems left, really, and they won't take too long).

"What's going on? Did something happen? You're running yourself into the ground," he frets when Oikawa takes a moment to slump over the kitchen table and close his eyes, but Oikawa assures him he's fine (and he is! He didn't mean to doze off like that, he just meant to rest for a second, was all).

Sugawara doesn't try to take Oikawa to parties anymore. He seems to think it's a bad idea.

But Oikawa goes to the parties himself now. He finds a way to fit them in, between all the working and studying - Sugawara calls it terrible prioritizing, but Oikawa waves him off. They keep him busier still, which is good, and they're easy enough to find. Smile at some pretty girl in one of his classes, ask her a question about their homework, ask her if there's anything to do that weekend.

There's kind of an easy cadence to it. Oikawa likes that about it, among other things.

***

The first party he goes to on his own is the second one where he and Iwaizumi run into each other. It's the weekend after the one he went to with Sugawara, and they haven't spoken since the night on the court.

He knows, when he turns a hallway corner and bumps into the firmly crossed arms of Iwaizumi, that he's been sold out.

"Iwa-chan!" yelps Oikawa, nearly dropping the drink in his hand. Some residual sliver of his sober consciousness reminds him _you are_ not _happy to see him,_ but it feels so good to say Iwaizumi's name like that again, loose and unthinking, that he dismisses it. "Are you stalking me?" he asks, even though he knows his traitorous roommate is at fault. Sugawara was awfully compliant earlier when Oikawa had announced he would be going out.

"Oikawa," replies Iwaizumi, understandably ignoring this last. "What are you doing?"

Oikawa tips his shot glass up to his mouth, then realizes that most of its contents have just been sloshed out. "What does it look like?" he asks, a little belligerently. "What do you think most people do here?"

"Uh, drink their weights in alcohol and make fools of themselves?"

"Such a smart boy." Oikawa ruffles Iwaizumi's hair and sets the glass carelessly aside on the ground before he traipses down the hallway. He's had a few too many drinks on an empty stomach, and honestly, he's not good at holding his liquor. He wants to find somewhere to lie down.

Iwaizumi catches up to him easily and heads him off, bringing him to a stop. His cheeks are getting flushed. "Seriously. Why are you suddenly going to all these parties?"

"It's only been two. And I have a new mom, remember. His name is Suga."

"Neither of us is your mom. Now tell me."

Oikawa squints at him. The cloudy weight of the alcohol is setting in more thickly now. "It's no business of yours," he says sweetly. He pushes past Iwaizumi and continues down the hall - there seems to be a bedroom on the end.

"Yes, it is," Iwaizumi calls after him as Oikawa opens the door to a thankfully empty room. "I'm your _friend_ , Shittykawa, you can't just disappear off the face of the planet and start getting wasted every weekend without expecting me to do something about it."

"Mmf," says Oikawa from the bed, where he's already flopped down face-first. It's a relief not to have to stand anymore. "Pretty sure this is normal. Just because you're uptight, and boring, and you only drink responsibly ... "

" _Oikawa_ ," says Iwaizumi. The warning in his voice makes Oikawa peek up. He's wearing a faint scowl on his face as he shuts the door, cutting the clamor of the party down to a distant buzz. "You didn't talk to me at all in calc on Thursday, and you didn't reply to my text asking if you wanted to study together. I was starting to think you'd been abducted by aliens."

Oikawa's fingers close around the scratchy sheets beneath him. "Wouldn't that be nice. I'm sure they'd treat me better than you do, Iwa-chan."

There's a pause, and then the bed shifts under Iwaizumi's weight as he sits down somewhere near Oikawa's head.

"You can't just run away from your problems, you know," he says. Oikawa scoffs, but he continues. "I can help, idiot. Tell me what it is this time."

There's a good chance he's only saying things like that because Oikawa is drunk, but Oikawa secretly likes it when Iwaizumi gets all embarrassing. He exhales quietly out of the side of his mouth and doesn't think about the last time Iwaizumi tried to get out from him what was wrong. "I don't have any problems."

"Besides budding alcoholism? Yeah, okay."

Neither of them speaks for some time. It isn't like it was on the court, Iwaizumi pressing and pressing with _what's wrong_. Oikawa's not sure what's different - maybe that he's drunk this time, maybe that Iwaizumi feels bad for him? Either way, he's beginning to slide in and out of consciousness, enough so that he can simultaneously wonder why alcohol always makes him so sleepy and begin to half-dream something involving catching frogs.

Iwaizumi's hand drops hesitantly on his head, jolting him a little and scattering the dream fragments. He starts running his fingers through Oikawa's hair, which provokes the still-sober part of Oikawa's consciousness into reprimanding _don't let him do that_. He relaxes and ignores it a second time.

"Iwa-chan?"

"Yes?"

"I'll talk to you in calc again."

He doesn't have to look up to know Iwaizumi is rolling his eyes.

"You're ever so gracious," says Iwaizumi flatly, even as he's smoothing out some of the tangles in Oikawa's hair.

"I'm serious. And I couldn't study with you that other day because, because I'm too busy, that's what Suga says."

"You couldn't study with me because Suga says you're too busy?"

Oikawa shuts away the last remnant of his mind that's clinging onto sense. He lifts himself up with some effort and deposits his head on Iwaizumi's lap. When Iwaizumi doesn't move, he grabs for his hand and puts it back in his own hair.

"No," he replies once the hand resumes running through his hair. "Not because Suga says. Because I _am_ too busy."

"Don't overwork yourself, dumbass," Iwaizumi says. "This isn't high school. You can't just throw yourself at things full force and hope they work out."

He doesn't reply for a long while. Iwaizumi possibly thinks he's asleep, because he starts brushing the hair back from his forehead in a way that makes Oikawa feel kind of embarrassed at first and then just light and peaceful.

He's no longer on the verge of sleep, but he doesn't mind that.

"The best thing about alcohol," he remarks, "is how little everything matters."

The hand in his hair pauses. "Huh. So you're the philosophical kind of drunk."

Oikawa turns his face and mumbles into Iwaizumi's thigh. "I'm not that drunk."

"Sure," Iwaizumi says, and lets out a gust of a sigh that grazes Oikawa's cheek. He pushes Oikawa off himself and into a sitting position. "I'm taking you home now before you fall asleep on me. You've clearly had enough."

"Home?" Oikawa perks up. "Our apartment?"

"Your apartment. Yours and Suga's," says Iwaizumi, and Oikawa's shoulders droop and then start to sway under the burden of having to sit up straight. Luckily, Iwaizumi is there beside him, and he supports him as they stand and leave the room.

"Why do I feel déjà vu," Iwaizumi mutters as they're walking back through campus to the high rise, Oikawa's arm slung around his shoulders. "This had better not become some sort of habit."

Oikawa doesn't reply immediately. The buzz of alcohol is keeping him warm better than any heavy coat would, and it's nice. Then there's Iwaizumi steady beside him, and the glow of the street lamps lighting the way for just the two of them at this hour, and he decides that he likes it, a lot. Next time, he'll have to pick another party close by so they can walk back just like this.

"Of course it won't become a habit," he promises.

***

Technically he does talk to Iwaizumi during their calculus class that next week, like he said he would.

"Can I borrow a pencil?" is what he asks, and then he busies himself with taking notes with such fervor that Iwaizumi doesn't try to talk to him, even though it's clear he's itching to. Oikawa forgets to return it afterward, so he ends up with a mint green mechanical pencil sitting innocently on his desk. He's torn between throwing it away and using it all the time.

The next day he gets a text that says **you're avoiding me arent you** , and when he doesn't reply to that, Iwaizumi shows up half an hour later on his doorstep. Even though he ceded his key to Sugawara when he moved out, Oikawa sits quietly with his back against the apartment door just in case. _I know you're in there,_ Iwaizumi calls out, knocking, but Oikawa can't bring himself to open the door.

When he finally leaves, Oikawa slumps down in relief. He just - he's too busy to see him, or maybe doesn't want to see him, or something, it doesn't matter.

They really only talk once a week.

Friday nights, Oikawa goes out to people's houses and apartments and even (just once) a bar, and downs cans and glasses and cups of whatever's in them. Iwaizumi comes and finds him with a hard look in his eyes. His resolve always softens within minutes, because Oikawa is always wasted and unguarded already. Oikawa goes into every night intending to ignore Iwaizumi even while he's drunk, but he always fails, and he can't deny that talking to him is so much easier and freer that way. Like old times, but with a hazy, rose-colored blur veiling Oikawa's eyes, which is not a bad trade-off. They fall into this strange routine at the end of every week.

It would be easy enough to break it. For one, Oikawa could stop telling Sugawara where he's headed before he leaves. But there's something strongly parental about the figure of his roommate, reading by the lamp or talking on the phone in the living room, that makes Oikawa homesick and compels him to report where he'll be. So they carry on.

It's the third Friday of this when Iwaizumi finally loses his temper.

" _Oikawa_!" he yells upon finding him in a corner of the kitchen, where Oikawa's been chatting with someone he suspects is the drug addict from that first party with Sugawara. Iwaizumi grabs him by the wrist and wrenches him away.

Oikawa watches, fascinated, and lets himself be tugged along. He's arrived early tonight, and Oikawa's still sober enough to be kind of scared. "Yes?"

Iwaizumi lets go once they've reached the host's living room, where there are less people. "Cut it out already," he says. "It's been a month. This is ridiculous."

"What is?" asks Oikawa, on the off chance that playing dumb will work.

Iwaizumi closes his eyes, as though willing himself to be patient. "Just tell me, okay? Is it something I did?"

That makes Oikawa feel bad. "I've been busy," he recites.

Iwaizumi disregards this entirely. "Why do you only talk to me when you're drunk out of your ass? And if you're so busy, why do you go to these things anyway? What the hell is going on?"

"Uhh," says Oikawa, distracted by the muscle jumping in Iwaizumi's jaw.

"Answers," he demands.

Oikawa opens his mouth to say something flippant before he realizes that Iwaizumi, arms crossed and mouth set, is serious. He's not going to let go of this.

So instead, he says, "I'll tell you if you win a game."

"A _game_?" Iwaizumi explodes. "Oikawa, I'm not - "

"A drinking game. I really will tell you."

Iwaizumi's eyes go a little cold. "If this is all some kind of joke to you, that makes you more of an asshole than I thought you were. Which is saying a lot."

That stings, almost worse than the quiet burn of guilt that swells in his heart every time Iwaizumi comes to find him, but this is still the only way out. "What," Oikawa says, "you'll drink with Sasaki's friends but not me?" He turns and heads for the liquor cabinet, trusting that Iwaizumi will follow.

He does, after a pause. "What do you want us to play, anyway?" he asks gruffly.

Oikawa rifles through the selection and pulls out a bottle of ice-hued vodka. "Kiku no hana, of course.

***

The small cup that Iwaizumi has just turned over reveals the five-yen coin.

"Wait, that's good, right?" asks Iwaizumi apprehensively, staring down at it and his fate.

"No! You lost." Oikawa starts turning over the other two cups and filling them generously with vodka.

Iwaizumi looks around the quiet bedroom they've staked out, possibly for an escape route. There really isn't one - they're sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing each other, and Oikawa is between Iwaizumi and the door. "That's not fair. I thought the goal was to pick whichever cup had the coin under it."

"No, silly," says Oikawa. "You try to pick one without it. Then I go, and then you go again, until someone finds the coin, and that unlucky person drinks from all the cups that are still turned over."

"That's counterintuitive. You're always supposed to guess which cup has the coin."

"Rules are rules." Oikawa picks up the first cup, carefully so that it doesn't spill, and holds it to Iwaizumi's lips.

"Fine," mutters Iwaizumi in resignation, and Oikawa takes the opportunity to tip the first shot back into Iwaizumi's mouth. He watches Iwaizumi's throat move as he swallows it.

"Give me the other one," he orders, wrinkling his nose at the taste, and Oikawa does. He drinks that one on his own.

Iwaizumi coughs when he's done and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Your turn to start," he reminds Oikawa. He turns the cups back over, slides the coin beneath one, and shuffles the lot of them around. "I swear, you're going to give in first, and I'm going to get some answers."

That won't happen, not if Oikawa can help it. His eyes try to follow the cup with the coin around.

"This one," he says picking one and turning it over. He hopes he won't find the coin on the first turn like Iwaizumi did.

The five-yen coin is glinting up at them.

Iwaizumi's air of grim disapproval finally dissolves into something more like glee. "Drink up," he says.

***

"You lost again!" sings Oikawa, and reaches for the vodka bottle. It's getting steadily lighter. "Wow, third time."

"Like you haven't lost ... " Iwaizumi pauses and counts on his fingers. "I don't know. Four times?"

"Five times," Oikawa corrects him. "Here." He pushes a cup toward Iwaizumi, who tilts his head back and drinks it without hesitation.

Iwaizumi stands up unsteadily and pulls on Oikawa's arm until he stands with him. "Come on," he says, steering them toward the door.

They've started taking breaks between rounds to go around and execute dares that they make up for each other - Oikawa's idea, so that they won't get drunk quite so fast. It's childish and ridiculous and wonderful.

Surprisingly, Iwaizumi is a lot more agreeable with a little alcohol in him.

"I dare you to steal that girl's drink," Oikawa says. He laughs, pointing at the can dangling loosely from her fingertips as she chats with someone unknowingly, and then laughs even harder when Iwaizumi actually does it and returns with a smirk on his face.

"I dare you," says Iwaizumi, now sipping from his stolen drink, "to ... to tell me. The answers." "Answers to what?" asks Oikawa.

"Answers to what?" asks Oikawa.

Iwaizumi scrunches up his face in concentration. "I, uh. I don't know," he says. "Okay, whatever. Get that girl's number or something."

"Nothing to it," says Oikawa happily.

***

They're walking home now. For once, they're leaning on each other equally, and it's not just Iwaizumi shouldering the weight.

Oikawa doesn't know if anyone actually won Kiku no Hana and doesn't care. Neither does Iwaizumi, it seems.

"Do you know," says Iwaizumi seriously, fixing his eyes on Oikawa's, "I've never played a drinking game before."

"Yeah, I could tell," Oikawa says. He lowers his voice into a growl that sounds nothing like Iwaizumi. "Trashykawa, how do you play this? You're trying to _find_ the coin, right?"

"Shut up!" Iwaizumi aims a slap at the back of his head, which he dodges without too much effort. "How was I supposed to know?"

Oikawa leans back in so that his shoulder is brushing Iwaizumi's as they walk. "Maybe if you got out more. And spent more time with me."

Iwaizumi snorts, but doesn't move away.

***

Somehow they end up at the apartment Iwaizumi and Sasaki share. Oikawa is pretty sure they meant to go to their old place, but then Iwaizumi said he needed to get something, so here they are.

"Hurry up," Oikawa calls from the entrance, rocking back and forth on his heels. "I want to go home."

There's the sound of rustling and drawers banging from the inside of the apartment. "Just come in," Iwaizumi calls back. So Oikawa does, shutting the door behind him, and looks around. It's nice, he supposes. A small living room with a television and a rug and a coffee table and everything it should have. He sits down on the sofa and draws his knees up with him.

Iwaizumi returns holding a red sweatshirt.

"Hey, that's mine!"

"I know." Iwaizumi tosses it to him and goes to sit by him. "I found it in one of my old moving boxes the other day."

"Thief. I bet you wear it to sleep all the time, Iwa-chan." "I do not!"

Oikawa just laughs and buries his face in his favorite sweatshirt. It smells like soap and sunlight and laundry, or maybe that's because Iwaizumi is right there next to him.

***

They're sitting so close on the couch that Oikawa can feel the heat radiating off Iwaizumi's thigh, and he thinks it's making him lose concentration.

Iwaizumi's flipping through the channels aimlessly. "How about this one?" he asks, pausing on one.

"Sure," says Oikawa, not even knowing what's playing.

Iwaizumi puts down the remote. "You're usually pickier than that," he says. "Who knew. The great Oikawa likes bird documentaries."

He laughs to himself and slouches down a little, though Oikawa's pretty sure there's nothing that funny about it. He glances at Oikawa when he doesn't get a reply.

"Hey, you okay?"

Oikawa turns to tell him yes, and when he does, he ends up closer to Iwaizumi than he expected. From this distance his eyes and eyelashes are both very dark, and his lips are curled in a slight smile, and Oikawa forgets what he was going to say.

The smile is starting to slide off Iwaizumi's face. "Oikawa - "

He wants something and he doesn't know what, but everything about Iwaizumi is warm and inviting and just out of reach.

And he's tired of that, so he leans in, his hand finding the shoulder of Iwaizumi's shirt, and presses his mouth to the hollow of his neck where his collarbone just begins to dips down.

Iwaizumi goes very still.

"Iwa-chan," breathes Oikawa, his heart thudding against the wall of his chest, and he raises his head slowly, lips brushing against the smooth line of Iwaizumi's throat, and Iwaizumi never moves once while he does it. He reaches the edge of his jaw, and there he feels the jump of a muscle as Iwaizumi swallows, and that's not really anything but it's better than nothing.

"Oikawa?" whispers Iwaizumi, and hearing his own name is better still.

He wants to hear it again, closer. His hand slips down to Iwaizumi's heart and he presses against it, wanting to feel it as fast as his own, and thinks that it might actually be faster. He closes his eyes and follows Iwaizumi's jaw, which arches back almost unnoticeably as he moves along it, until he reaches his lips, which are slightly parted and -

\- taste like vodka and heat and salt. And it would be perfect, except they don't move.

Oikawa opens his eyes and pulls back. Iwaizumi is wide-eyed, unresponsive except for the rapid rise of his chest.

His own breath is hitching too. Neither of them speaks as Iwaizumi scans his face. Right eye, left eye, lips, back up again.

"I should get home," Oikawa says finally, voice cracking a little.

"Yeah," Iwaizumi says. "You should."

"Okay," says Oikawa, and he moves to get off the couch.

But Iwaizumi's arm reaches out in front of his chest to stop him, so quickly that it startles both of them and Iwaizumi jerks it back as though he didn't mean to do it.

"Wait," says Iwaizumi, and Oikawa turns, half-afraid. There's a strange, blazing look in Iwaizumi's eyes before he closes them and leans in.

This time they're kissing, and it's unbelievable, Iwaizumi's lips on his, so he opens his mouth to taste him. The sounds they're making are kind of wet and obscene but he doesn't care, not when Iwaizumi makes a low noise from the back of his throat and Oikawa ends up on his back on the couch with Iwaizumi on top of him. They're touching everywhere, and Oikawa was wrong about him being just warm, because his skin is _hot_ , burning, and there isn't any air. He doesn't need it anyway.

One of Iwaizumi's hands is between them rucking up Oikawa's shirt, and Oikawa's own hands are in Iwaizumi's hair, which is thick and soft.

"Oikawa," says Iwaizumi shakily, pulling back just enough to exhale it under his breath, and Oikawa doesn't think he's ever tasted anything as good as his own name on Iwaizumi's lips.

His hands slide down to Iwaizumi's waist and slip beneath his shirt to run along the tense muscle of his back, his abdominals, his chest. He's touched him a million times before but not like this, never before like this -

"Hajime?" asks a voice.

And then he's gone. Oikawa's hands are clutching at nothing. He opens his eyes again, sees that Iwaizumi has raised himself onto his knees and is staring at the doorway with his eyes wide and utterly blank.

Sasaki is standing there, luggage in hand, and she's staring back at them uncomprehendingly. "I ... got back a day early," she says. "I was going to surprise you."

"Tomone," whispers Iwaizumi, and his voice is an apology, and it's awful. Oikawa can't stand to look at her anymore, so he looks at Iwaizumi, but his hair is tousled and his cheeks are flushed and that's worse, because Oikawa still wants to touch him. He settles for looking at the ground.

"I didn't want to call," she continues, glassy-eyed. "I thought you'd be asleep by now. But you're ... you're ... "

Oikawa picks up his red sweatshirt and pushes himself dizzily off the couch before it can go on. He doesn't want to hear whatever Iwaizumi says next.

Iwaizumi and Sasaki are both frozen, a surreal tableau framed by the suddenly too-small living room. Oikawa has to leave, _now_. He pauses by Sasaki for a split second on his way out, but he doesn't know what to say. _Sorry? Glad you're back safe? See you around?_ None of those are appropriate. He ducks his head and goes.

The moment the door shuts behind him, he hears a raised voice.

When he gets home, the light in Sugawara's room is off, and he should be thankful but is mostly numb. He showers off as much of the night as he can and gets in bed. He's too tired and uncaring to dry his hair, and it soaks his pillow instantly.

Sometimes, Oikawa Tooru fucks up and knows what to do. Other times, he doesn't have a clue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive any errors.


	4. Chapter 4

There is no protocol for what to do when you're the reason your best friend cheated on his girlfriend, and perhaps that's why Oikawa can't stop obsessively thinking about it. He's managed a grand total of two hours of sleep since he came home last night. The rest of the time he's spent running the past twelve hours through his head over and over again, and no matter how he looks at it, he can't deny the harsh facts: Oikawa got him drunk, he cheated on Sasaki, he cheated on Sasaki _with_ Oikawa.

The guilt is consuming him. Soon he'll be gone, entirely eaten up by it.

"I'll be fine," he tells Sugawara anyway, when he comes into Oikawa's room to check on him.

"Are you sure?" Sugawara asks, peering down into his nest of quilts from the side of the bed. "You've been so busy this past month, and now you're just ... lying around. Which is fine," he adds hurriedly, "totally fine. But I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Oikawa sinks deeper into the quilts so that he doesn't have to meet Sugawara's eyes when he speaks. "I'm alright," he lies, voice muffled. "Thank you, Suga."

Sugawara stares at him for a long time and then, very gently, places a hand on his head; Oikawa closes his eyes at the touch. "If you say so. But if you ever need anything, just let me know."

"Okay," says Oikawa.

Then Sugawara leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Oikawa shifts in his bed, restless, and tries to fall asleep. It's Saturday anyway, and after all, he barely slept last night. But when he closes his eyes he only sees dark hair, and his own hands in it; only hears his own name, floating on a disbelieving whisper; only feels warm, rough hands pulling up his shirt.

That makes him feel uncomfortably hot all over, so he opens his eyes again.

Sleep is optional, anyway. If there's anything that Oikawa has learned from the past few years of his life, it's that.

***

Later in the day, he gets a call.

It's seven in the evening, too early to be lying in bed. He's doing it anyway. His eyes are reading a book for one of his classes even though he's hardly processing it. When his phone rings, he checks it, sees the unknown number, and replaces the phone screen-down on his bed.

It rings again five minutes later, after he's laboriously worked his way to the next page. Oikawa gives in and rests the book open against his chest to hold his place.

"Hello," he says, holding the phone up to his mouth.

"Oikawa?" asks a female voice.

" _Sasaki?_ " He sits up abruptly; the book tumbles to the ground. His heart rate ratchets up to full speed somewhere in the span of a second.

"Oh, hi, yes. Are you busy right now?"

"Um, no," he says. His mind is racing to guess why she's calling and what her tone means and whether or not she hates him, and as a result he can't think at all.

"Can I - can I come over? I mean, not to intrude," she adds quickly. "I just wanted to ... to talk to you about something."

"Okay."

"Great, uh, thanks. I'll see you ... does seven-thirty work?"

"That's fine."

"Okay. See you soon."

She hangs up.

Oikawa's limbs are weak in the aftermath of adrenaline. He sinks back into the pillows behind him and, feeling faint, checks the call log: 7:04, incoming call, twenty-seven seconds.

So it really happened. He tosses the phone to the side and rests his forearm over his eyes.

_Well, shit._

***

At seven-thirty precisely, Sasaki walks up the stairs to their apartment in a red sweater and a pair of loose jeans, arms crossed against the early December chill. Her brown hair is tied low at the nape of her neck. Oikawa releases the crack he's made in the living room window's blinds and dashes to the door, where he waits one, two, three seconds after she knocks to wrench it open.

"Hello," they both say at the same time.

"Come in," says Oikawa, moving aside. She glances at him, taking him in. He wonders what she thinks - he's brushed his teeth, changed his clothes, and done a perfunctory swipe through his hair, but maybe she can still tell he's been lying in bed for the past two days.

If she can, she doesn't make any indication of it. She steps wordlessly past him and then pauses, looking back with uncertainty: _lead the way?_ "Uh," says Oikawa, feeling lost, "We can go to my room?"

"That's fine," she agrees. He takes her through the back hallway, ignoring Sugawara's questioning gaze as they pass his room.

When they reach Oikawa's room, he gestures to the armchair, which she takes.

"Do you. Can I get you anything to drink?" asks Oikawa, fidgeting.

"Some water would be nice," she says. "If it's no trouble." She looks just as uncomfortable as he feels, her legs crossed tightly and one ankle jiggling.

He goes into the kitchen and retrieves a bottle from the fridge. While he's there he takes a brief moment to brace himself.

"Here you go," he says when he returns, shutting the door behind him. He worries it might come across as strange, but he doesn't want Sugawara overhearing, and she seems not to notice regardless.

"Thank you."

She doesn't say anything else or look at him. Oikawa uneasily sits on the edge of his bed, facing her.

"How are you doing?" she finally asks. Her voice is strangely lacking any of the resentment he would expect.

"Fine, fine," says Oikawa. "And you?"

"I'm doing alright."

She takes a prolonged drink of her water while Oikawa looks anywhere in the room but at her. From this angle, he can see a mint green striped sock under the armchair she's sitting on. He prays she won't notice. The only sounds in the room come from the low hum of the ceiling fan and her swallowing the water.

He thinks he might implode from the silence, but she caps the bottle and speaks.

"I know you're in love with him."

Oikawa freezes. "What?"

"Oh." Her cheeks turn a little pink. "Maybe not in _love_ , but ... "

He narrows his eyes and shifts them from her face to her too-straight shoulders to her hands, which are gripping the water bottle tightly enough to wrinkle the blue paper wrapper around it. "What are you talking about?"

Her mouth is twisted into something regretful, like she wishes she hadn't spoken. He wishes it too.

"I just meant that there's something going on between you two."

"Something going on," he repeats.

Her cheeks are only growing pinker. "Yes."

Oikawa sits back and schools his expression into shock, because currently it's completely blank, and he senses that he should feel - outrage, surprise, disgust. He doesn't.

"There isn't anything going on."

The plastic crinkles in her hand. "The - the night I came back. Yesterday," she says. Oikawa averts his eyes. Does it also feel impossibly long ago to her? "You two ... and then Hajime, he ... "

"He what?"

Now her eyes and cheeks are both getting red. He tries not to notice. The guilt, like acid, is starting to burn a hole through his heart.

"He ... Sorry," she says, trailing off, and ducks her head down so her chin rests on her chest.

Oikawa gets up instinctively, then sits back down, not knowing not to do. "No, don't say that, if anyone it's me who needs to apologize," he rushes out, and it's awful, he's awful, he wants to die from the shame. "I'm sorry." _What a stupid thing to say._ He regrets the words the second they leave his mouth.

She looks up. She's not crying like he thought, but it's only a small consolation.

"It's okay," she says, and he stares at her but can't tell if she means it - she shouldn't.

"No, it isn't."

"But it is. And who am I kidding? I never had a chance anyway."

"You did. You do," Oikawa says, immediately and mechanically.

"I don't."

"You do! I promise, what happened was - "

"I'm not an idiot!"

He blinks. Now she's glaring at him, and her eyes are redder than ever, and somehow it finally feels right.

"I know you're not," he says. "He ... he cares about you, you know."

"Not in the same way," she replies, softly enough that he instinctively watches her mouth to piece together what she's saying. "That's why we ... "

Oikawa stops breathing. He leans in almost unconsciously. _Go on,_ one horrible, intent part of him encourages, _you what? You did what? Tell me, please, what did you -_

"I have to go."

"What?!"

She stands up suddenly. He stands too.

"This was a bad idea. I don't know why I came. I just thought that maybe, maybe if I talked to you face-to-face, it'd be clear to me - "

"Where are you going? Wait! What happened? _Wait_ \- "

She's already heading for the door, avoiding his stare. He follows her out into the hallway as she starts down it.

"Sasaki, wait," he repeats. "I know you probably hate me and have every reason to, but you have to listen. Nothing happened that night, I swear, nothing that meant anything, you're his girlfriend after all - "

Her steps quicken. "Don't."

Oikawa breaks into a half-jog to keep up with her as she reaches the living room. "What can I do?" he asks helplessly.

Sasaki's at the door now, her back to him, one hand already on the doorknob. "You can't do anything," she says, matter-of-fact. When she turns her face, her smile is bright and watery, catching him off guard, but still she is not crying. He pictures suddenly the nervous girl who came over on a Friday night months ago to meet him.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"It was nice seeing you, Oikawa."

She slips out as he stands there, unable to stop her.

He waits about ten seconds, almost expecting her to turn around and come back, but of course she doesn't.

"Whoa," says Sugawara, appearing cautiously behind him. "What was that all about?"

Oikawa walks over to the door. Before he closes it, he peers out the crack; her car is idling by the curb.

"That," he says, "I'm not sure of myself."

***

On Sunday, Oikawa forces himself to get out of bed sometime around noon, or maybe mid- morning - he can't be sure. When he looks outside the window, a light snow is starting to fall, washing white across their apartment complex.

Sugawara acts like it's normal when he stumbles out of his room at the late hour, and doesn't pry. Not even when Oikawa startles him by coming up and giving him a hug, or more accurately, getting a hug from him. He rubs Oikawa's back between his shoulder blades, and Oikawa rests his head in his friend's shoulder. It's more comforting than he expects it to be.

They play a mindless and mostly quiet game of cards together in the living room, which Oikawa is grateful for because it keeps him from thinking about other things, and which he suspects Sugawara is grateful for because it keeps him from wasting away in bed. He knows that Sugawara usually goes out to lunch with friends on Sundays, and that makes him feel all the more indebted to his roommate, who he honestly doesn't deserve.

When the doorbell rings, it's Sugawara's turn, but he turns his handful of cards facedown on the table and pushes himself off the couch to answer the door. "Huh, I'm not expecting anyone," he says. "Are you?"

Oikawa doesn't answer as Sugawara turns the locks and opens the door. His initial, absurd reaction is _Oh God it's Sasaki again_ , but then -

"Hey, Suga," says a distinct voice. "Is Oikawa there?"

His eyes shoot upward in terror. The rest of him stays deathly still.

Sugawara - _bless him_ \- has the crack of the door as narrow as possible and is filling the rest of the space with his body. A few snowflakes drift softly inside around him. "Uh," he says, "hello, Iwaizumi. How are you?" His eyes flick casually back to Oikawa, asking a silent question. Oikawa just as silently thanks him and tries to convey through his eyes a forceful _do not let him in_ , his heart hammering fast.

"I'm doing fine," says Iwaizumi politely; Oikawa strains to listen for an undercurrent of something, anything, that might give away his emotions. "Listen, can I talk to Oikawa?"

Oikawa shakes his head minutely, scared that it will draw Iwaizumi's attention. From here, he just might be able to see Oikawa past Sugawara.

"He's ... not feeling well," Sugawara hedges on his behalf, looking uncomfortable, though Oikawa can't imagine why. It's not like it's a lie. "Maybe you could come back another time?"

The five centimeters that Oikawa can see of Iwaizumi deflate. "Oh, uh, okay," he says, and Oikawa slumps down as well, but in relief. "Will you let him know that - hey!"

The movement has given him away. Iwaizumi's staring at him over the top of Sugawara's head.

He can't help but look back. Iwaizumi's wearing a knit hat, under which his dark hair is sticking out in slight disarray, and a red scarf that seems to be new.

"Oikawa?"

Oikawa ducks his head and coughs to clear his throat. "Hi," he manages.

"Hi. Uh, are you. Actually not feeling well?" asks Iwaizumi.

"Yes," says Oikawa. Sugawara is looking at him with apologetic reluctance as he opens the door for Iwaizumi. "Headache, sore throat, upset stomach, all of it. I'm on death's door. You probably shouldn't even come near me." _Shut up already,_ his brain warns. He swallows and tries to slow down his speaking pace from its quick ramble. "But, if you need something ... "

"Let's just go outside," suggests Iwaizumi, who seems to have discerned that there's not actually anything wrong with him.

 _This is alright. This is fine._ They haven't talked in two days since the time Iwaizumi pinned him down on the couch and this is how they can act: naturally. "I look like a wreck," Oikawa protests. It comes out as a whine, and he's proud of the way it can probably pass as any regular exchange between them. "How could I disappoint my adoring public? And it's snowing out. I'll catch a cold on top of my cold."

"You've got five minutes, and then I'm coming in to get you."

They watch as Iwaizumi stiffly turns and exits. In a few moments, they can hear the rhythmic _thud_ s of his shoes on the stairs.

"Not that I would force you to tell me or anything," Sugawara begins, "but what happened? I haven't seen two people dance around each other so much since the day we found Noya and Asahi together in the equipment closet. Gosh, that was an awkward practice."

Oikawa buries his face in his hands. And he'd thought he'd done such a good job pretending, too.

He might as well tell him. "About that. So. Friday. I got us both drunk and then we went to their apartment and started watching some bird documentary and kind of ended up making out horizontally but _nothing more than that I swear_ and then Sasaki walked in and I high tailed it because what else was I supposed to do? And now I think shit's about to go down." He comes to an abrupt stop and catches his breath. "Yeah."

Sugawara's eyes are wide. "You ... oh. Okay."

"Right."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know! Oh my God, why do you think he's here? Is he mad? He has to be mad at me. I ruined his first real relationship, holy fuck - "

"Sometimes it takes two people to ruin a relationship," Sugawara cuts in.

Oikawa studies him and then throws his hands up in defeat. "Thanks for trying to help, Suga, but I don't have time," he says, and then he startles him by getting up and suddenly dashing for the bathroom. "I have to - freshen up!"

In front of the mirror, he stares at himself with his hands clutching the cold marble counter; his eyes are wild and his cheeks are flushed, like he's got a fever. He splashes some icy water on his face and accidentally soaks the collar of his shirt in the process - he'll have to change that then - but oh, Iwaizumi will notice, and think that he's trying too hard or that this means something. Will he? - or does it matter? - he's already waiting for him to get ready anyway, isn't he? Oikawa debates, wavering in the threshold of the bathroom, and finally gives in and runs down the hall to his bedroom, shucking off his shirt as he goes.

He pulls on a new one and then flips his head over, tousles his hair roughly, and whips it back as he stands up. It's not his morning blow-dry routine, but it'll do. _What next?_ His eyes dart around the room and land on a pack of breath mints that he'd bought a couple weeks ago. It's the wrong flavor, he doesn't even like cinnamon, but he fishes a piece out and pops it in his mouth anyway. There. Okay. That should be fine.

Casually, he walks back out to the living room, where his poor roommate is still sitting and looking rather shell-shocked. Oikawa nods at him, steps into a pair of sneakers, throws on a heavy jacket from the coat rack, and slips out the door.

It's blinding for a moment from the sudden sun and the filter of white in the air, but then there's Iwaizumi, sitting on the curb in his combat boots, forearms resting on his knees. Oikawa approaches from behind.

"I have arrived," he announces, grand and loud with as much bravado as he can muster.

Iwaizumi's shoulders tense under his coat. "Oh. Hey," he says without turning around.

Oikawa wilts a little and hesitates before sitting down gingerly next to him, leaving enough space between them for a third person. He glances sidelong at Iwaizumi's profile - his hair is dusted with white, as are his eyelashes.

He looks away and at the gravel beneath their feet, where a few drifts of snow are bravely trying to accumulate. He hopes that Iwaizumi will take the lead on whatever the fuck this is, because he has no earthly idea what could possibly be going on. Maybe he's here for his rightful revenge. Maybe he's formally severing their friendship, maybe he's vowing an eternal blood feud against him and his family, maybe he's going to _punch him_ -

"So how do you - "

" _Aah!_ "

Oikawa flinches as Iwaizumi turns toward him.

They both freeze.

"What?" Iwaizumi blinks.

"Oh." Oikawa lowers his raised arms and straightens his jacket, wanting to evaporate in embarrassment. "I thought you were, um, going to ... "

"What, attack you?!"

"No, nothing like that. Don't be silly." He clears his throat and realizes that he's swallowed his mint on accident. "Go on. What were you saying?"

Iwaizumi continues with obvious suspicion. "I was going to ask how you felt about grabbing lunch."

"Lunch?"

"Uh, yeah, lunch," says Iwaizumi defensively. "Second meal of the day? Usually eaten around noon?"

Oikawa is no math genius, if his struggles with calculus are any indication, but something isn't adding up. He peers up at Iwaizumi but can't find any bloodlust written in his face. If anything, he looks normal, looks like Iwaizumi, albeit a little anxious and intent.

"Okay."

Iwaizumi visibly relaxes, exhaling a cloud of warmth that dissipates into the chill air. "How about Maru? There's a beef bowl special today."

"Hold on," says Oikawa, not looking at him, heart starting to pound with how left-field the whole thing is, how wonderful and incomprehensible and verging on hopeful. His mouth is dry and tastes of the spicy tang of cinnamon. "Just one thing. It's ten-thirty a.m."

"So what?"

"Isn't this technically brunch, then?

" _Excuse me?_ "

"Brunch," he repeats, standing up and brushing off the seat of his pants. "Portmanteau of breakfast and lunch? Usually eaten in the late morning?"

"Oh, fuck off."

***

They sink into the familiarity of old times - at least, Iwaizumi does. Not only does he start texting Oikawa again, he texts him asking to hang out, to study, to play volleyball.

Oikawa goes from his initial elation to suspicion to finally restless trepidation.

"What's he playing at," he hisses partly at Sugawara but partly at no one in particular while he paces around the living room. "Not one word about Sasaki. Or that - that night. We're just living it up as usual. Nothing wrong, no, not at all. Nothing weird about any of this!"

Sugawara doesn't look up from the dense textbook on his lap. Outfitted with that and his glasses, he looks unusually bookish and serious.

"Maybe he's not ready to talk about it yet," he offers. "You know, you could always be the one to bring it up."

Oikawa stops pacing. "Suga. I trust your advice more than anyone else's. But are you _serious_?

What if I ruin things? At least it's calm right now, at least we're talking. This doesn't have to last. I could screw it all up again. Like that." He snaps his fingers to illustrate; Sugawara's eyes remain glued to the textbook.

He turns a page. "He showed up and made the effort to see you, didn't he?"

"And?"

"That means the ball's in your court."

Oikawa rallies three separate arguments to this and then discards them all, because Sugawara's right.

"You're right," he huffs, and crosses his arms, feeling like a child. The corners of Sugawara's lips are twitching.

"I know."

"Doesn't mean I'm going to do anything about it." "I know that, too."

And Oikawa doesn't do anything. He imagines it all the time, though. On the basketball court, lazily shooting hoops together as the sun sets: _hey, uh, how're things with your girlfriend?_ In the corner booth of their coffee shop, heads bent down studiously over notes: _so your relationship, huh?_ Over noodles, sitting side-by-side at the bar stools in their favorite cheap ramen place: _are you mad that I got you drunk and you ended up cheating on Sasaki?_

It's never the right time. Surely Iwaizumi thinks so too, because he never brings up anything either.

The third day after they seemingly make up, Iwaizumi drops by the apartment with a duffel bag on his shoulder and asks, gruffly and self-consciously, if he can stay with them.

Sugawara is doing dishes in the kitchen when he asks, and so comes running out holding a pot when he hears Oikawa's yelp of surprise.

"What happened? Is everything okay?"

Oikawa starts guiltily. "Oh, yes, everything's fine, everything's cool," he says, still staring in shock at the duffel bag. He does have the presence of mind to open the door wider and let Iwaizumi step inside.

"Hey, Suga," their unexpected guest says.

"Hi." Sugawara notices that he's dripping soapy water on the carpet and hastens back to the kitchen. "What's up with you?"

"Was just wondering if I could stay with you guys," Iwaizumi mumbles. "For the time being."

Oikawa opens his mouth to say something, but Sugawara, ever the gracious host, beats him to it.

"Of course," he calls over the sound of the running water. "I could take the couch? That way you'd have your old room back."

"Oh, no way," Iwaizumi protests. Oikawa looks on at the whole exchange, horror dawning on him - _this is actually happening_. Iwaizumi's ears are turning red. "You stay there, I'll - share with Oikawa, or something."

"Hey, what - "

"Okay, if you don't mind," says Sugawara agreeably.

Oikawa glares in the general direction of the kitchen and then turns to give Iwaizumi his fair share of glaring too. He relents a little when he sees him avoiding eye contact and rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

The only thing to do is roll with it. Since they're ignoring whatever happened and all. "Let me get that for you," he offers brightly, reaching out and snatching Iwaizumi's duffel away from him.

"You don't have to do that," Iwaizumi says dryly as he follows Oikawa to the hall. "I'm not a real guest, y'know."

Oikawa flicks on the lights in his room and tosses the bag onto a chair. "Oh, don't put yourself down like that, Iwa-chan. You really should get that inferiority complex of yours checked out."

"Not what I meant, asshole."

Oikawa puts his hands on his hips. "Why are you here, again?" He doubts he'll get a real answer, but he might as well try.

Sure enough, Iwaizumi looks away and then busies himself with unpacking his duffel. "Just needed a place," he says shortly. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Well, where are you going to _sleep_?"

Both of them pretend his voice doesn't catch when he says it.

"I mean, the bed, I guess." Iwaizumi gestures at it forcefully. "Where else? The floor?"

"Oh. Yeah. Where else," Oikawa echoes. "Is that ... okay with you? I can take the couch, actually. Of course, my hair will get all messed up from those horrible cushions, and it'll print wrinkles on my face, but if anyone can pull it off it'd be - "

"Don't be an idiot," Iwaizumi interrupts, looking at him like he's crazy. "It's fine."

***

 _It's fine, it's fine,_ Oikawa chants mentally that night as he prepares to get into bed. Already, Iwaizumi is lying on his side, turned toward the wall, has been like that for the past half hour. Oikawa has been working up the courage to join him for that half hour, and has spent it meticulously brushing his teeth and showering and dressing. Now he can't find a reason to put it off any longer.

They've slept next to each other plenty as kids, occasionally growing up, and even a couple of times these past few months. Somehow it's uncomfortable now. The air is too still, and so is Iwaizumi, who can't have fallen asleep just yet even if he's pretending to be; Oikawa has been too loud clattering around the room and getting ready.

He holds his breath and sits on the edge of the bed, then swings his legs over, trying not to jostle the mattress in case Iwaizumi actually is asleep. Then he slips under the covers, careful not to disturb them.

There. He's done it. He lies on his side facing away from Iwaizumi, spine straight and breathing shallow, and wills his pulse down as he stares at the wall. The moonlight through the curtains casts a few hazy shapes of light across it, but otherwise, the room is dark.

Something is off. Why is Iwaizumi here? Are he and Sasaki taking a break? Yes, they're taking a break, which is only natural considering what's happened - Oikawa's stomach twinges in guilt - and tomorrow Iwaizumi will be off again. Then things will be back to normal.

_Or maybe she kicked him out, and that's the only reason he's back again, the only way you can ever have him._

No. That can't be it.

_Makes sense. Why else would he come back here? For the hell of it? For you? -_

Oikawa angrily cuts off his own thoughts and turns onto his back, glaring at the ceiling. He exhales one long, pent-up, shuddery breath and closes his eyes.

There's an answering twitch from the other side of the bed.

"Oikawa?" asks a whisper.

He opes his eyes again, frustration fading instantly. "Yes?"

There's no reply for a couple of seconds, and Oikawa is about to ask again when -

"Thanks for letting me stay."

Iwaizumi turns over to face Oikawa as he says it, the bed shifting under his weight. His breath tickles Oikawa's neck. Oikawa catches that same scent of soap he always uses, aloe or lavender or maybe cedar, something green and fresh.

He doesn't turn onto his side to face Iwaizumi like he wants to. "Thank Suga. I would've turned you out into the cold," he whispers loudly to the ceiling. And before he can stop himself, he adds, "You just wanted a chance to get in bed with me, didn't you?"

 _Oh God._ It's nothing he wouldn't have said with ease a couple of months ago, and yet now he's kicking himself for it.

But Iwaizumi only groans tiredly. "You never change," he mutters. One of his arms moves on the bed and it bumps against Oikawa's. "Yeah, you got me, Shittykawa. That's why I'm here."

Oikawa counts to three and then orders himself to move his arm away, but he can't bring himself to. Defeated, he finally relaxes into his pillow and allows himself to enjoy, just a little bit, the warmth of the boy next to him, the barely-there contact of their arms.

"Of course it is," he huffs. "Don't think I don't know you."

"Good night, Oikawa."

He wonders if he'll miss Iwaizumi when he leaves again, and wonders if he's allowed to.

"'Night."

***

Iwaizumi is still there the next morning. The light snow isn't; the ground must not have frozen enough for it to stick overnight.

"We should do something after class," Iwaizumi says, lying on the bed fully dressed and setting Oikawa's volleyball idly above his own head over and over. "Before the weather gets bad again."

Oikawa takes twice as long to get ready, so he's still buttoning his jeans, his back turned to the bed. He makes a face, even though Iwaizumi can't see it. "I don't know, I have a lot to do," he says, because it's true, he's had trouble paying attention in class lately. "Don't you have tests to study for like the rest of us mere mortals?"

"Yeah, but I've got time. Come on. Winter break's here in a couple of weeks anyway. Just take the day off."

He turns around, considering, and watches Iwaizumi set the ball. It looks almost strange on him, the easy rhythm of it, the lazy way he's sprawled out on Oikawa's bed, like he has nothing better to do and is okay with that. Maybe he just hasn't seen him that relaxed in a while.

Iwaizumi notices him staring and fumbles the ball, but catches it and rests it on his own chest, one forearm slung across it. "How 'bout it? We can see a movie or something. We never go to the actual theater."

He does kind of miss that - they haven't had their weekly Friday movie night in a long time. "Sure," he relents, smirking. "Sci-fi okay? _Alien Nation II: Beings from Beyond_ is showing."

A pause, and he can tell that Iwaizumi's weighing his chances of winning if he argues. They must be low, because he finally says, "Of course. What else."

"Good."

Iwaizumi glances over at him without moving his head. His eyes cast over Oikawa's unstyled hair, then sweep downward before resting just a second too long on his waist.

He looks away and resumes setting the ball. "Hurry up already. Put on a shirt and quit parading around," he orders.

Oikawa pauses for a split second, calculating.

His heart hitches in his chest. He walks slowly over to the closet and chooses a gray crewneck sweatshirt, which he puts on with deliberate care, stretching his arms above his head to get the collar and sleeves on. He's always suspected - noticed - something, noticed fleeting glances and gazes that skate, but he's always wondered if he was imagining things, if he was reading too much into them, and now he tells himself _just a test, this is just a test, I have to see_ as he turns back around -

He's looking. And then looking away. "Let's go," he says, tossing the ball into the desk chair and sitting up. "My class is farther, you're gonna make me late."

The strange thrill of victory is already fading.

"Yeah," says Oikawa, hating himself for even entertaining the whole idea. "Let's go."

***

Before they head out that evening for the movie, when Iwaizumi steps into the bathroom and starts the shower, Oikawa notes the time and then hunts down Sugawara in his room.

"Hey th - "

"I need to ask you something," says Oikawa as Sugawara pushes his chair back from his desk to face him. "Why do you think he's really here?"

"What?"

"Quick, no time," he urges. "Iwaizumi showers fast. Like, an in-and-out-in-five-minutes type of deal. Why's he here? More importantly, why's he _still_ here?"

Sugawara stares at him, wasting four of their precious seconds, and then finally sighs and leans an arm on the desk, propping his chin up in his hand. "Isn't it obvious?" he says. "They broke up."

"They _what?_ "

"You really didn't know?" Sugawara asks curiously.

"Know - what! They. When." He gesticulates wildly while his roommate looks on in concern. "How did you find out?" he finally demands.

Sugawara shrugs. "The clues add up. From what you told me, looks like they had a falling out, and then he needed a place to stay." He frowns at Oikawa. "No offense, but you really didn't figure?"

"I thought they were just taking a break!" he blurts, even as the thought sneaks in, accusatory and insidious: _you've suspected as much all along._

_Been too scared to admit you ruined something good for him ..._

"I mean, I guess that's possible," says Sugawara. His eyes are softening, and his voice is too, taking on a faraway quality until it sounds like it's filtering through water to reach him. "But is it likely? I don't see why else he'd be here unexplained, and if they were actually taking a break he wouldn't be here with the one person ... "

Oikawa's not listening. A chill is emanating outwards from his chest, extending radially through his body - _she did dump him, that's why he's here, it's your fault._

"Oikawa?"

He blinks as Sugawara's voice returns to normal. "Huh? Oh, I - gotta go."

"Wait, go where? Oikawa!"

He's already dashing back to his own room, where he rips a coat out of the closet and tosses it on without any thought to whether it matches or not. Only a couple of minutes have passed since Iwaizumi started the shower - he can make it before he gets out. "Bye," he calls as he reaches the door. "Don't wait up!"

"Where are you going? Hold on, you're not about to do something ill-advised are you - "

Oikawa slams the door shut in his hurry and takes the stairs two at a time, heart pounding fast. Maybe it is ill-advised. Maybe it isn't.

It's the right thing to do.

***

"Oikawa?"

"Hi," he says, panting slightly as he stands on the doormat. "Hope you don't mind me dropping by."

"Oh, no," says Sasaki, bemused. "Not at all." He cringes, because as nice a person as she is, he doubts it's a delight for her to see him unannounced, all things considering.

He takes a breath and presses on anyway. "Could I speak with you for just a second? I know you probably don't want to see me, but it's important. I won't take more than a few minutes."

"I ... guess. Come on in."

She's in sweatpants and a ponytail, her face free of makeup, and he feels bad for springing this on her but knows that he needs to do it before he weakens and backs out. He enters the apartment with a gust of cold air while she holds the door open for him. It looks nearly the same inside as it did last time, homey and pleasant, but a bit neater.

"So," he says, whirling around to face her as she shuts the door behind him. "I realized what happened."

Her expression, still shocked from his sudden arrival, tightens minutely. "Oh?"

"Yeah," says Oikawa, and he starts pacing in front of her, raking a hand through his hair. "I know you've got your reasons for breaking up with him, but you have to - you have to give him another chance. It wasn't his fault. It was mine, I swear."

"Oikawa - "

"Blame me. I'll own up to it, it was all kinds of wrong, you didn't deserve it. But I'm telling you there's nothing going on between us, he doesn't - think about me like that - "

"I didn't break up with him," she says.

He stops pacing.

"You what?"

Sasaki folds her arms across her chest and meets his stare, a strange look in her eyes. "He broke up with me."

"What?" he repeats.

She raises her eyebrows. "I would've given him a second chance. I think. Maybe." She offers him a smile, not a strictly happy one. "Didn't really have time to figure it out, because he ended things the next morning."

"Why?"

Her smile is still wry, but it looks at least partly real now. "Don't make me spell it out for you," she says, almost teasing.

"Spell out what?"

She doesn't answer for a moment, putting him on edge, and when she does speak she only says, "I think you'd better ask him yourself."

"But - " Oikawa restrains himself. He has no right to argue with her. "I don't think ... "

His phone starts ringing. It's probably Iwaizumi, who's discovered his absence by now. He declines the call without looking at it.

"It's alright, really," Sasaki says.

"No, this isn't - none of this is _alright!_ I messed things up and I'm here to _fix it_ , I really am ... "

She very gently takes him by the arm and, to his surprise, steers him toward the door. "There's nothing to fix," she says. "At least, not between me and Hajime."

He looks at her imploringly as she opens the door for him and gives him a slight push; on anyone else the gesture would be rude, but it's Sasaki, who's still smiling knowingly.

"Can't you tell me what's going on? Please?"

"I'm really not at liberty to, sorry."

Oikawa is not above turning on his melted-bronze eyes, the ones that girls would go crazy for back in high school.

She laughs - "Bye, Oikawa" - and shuts the door on him. Honestly, he can't blame her.

So he turns to make the walk back to his own apartment, grateful for, at the very least, one thing: she seems to be doing better, well enough to have the resolve to physically eject him from her apartment. No longer confused like the day when she was the one seeking him out - he's the one who's lost now. What a role reversal.

The wind outside's chilly, piercing through his coat, and he stuffs his hands into his pockets as he crosses the street. Iwaizumi will be irate that he's blown their movie plans to run off on some mysterious errand. He won't be annoyed because they're missing the entertainment of it, but he'll be annoyed about the principle of it, being late and undependable.

He'll press his fingers to his temples and forgive Oikawa after a while, and they'll find something else to do. They'll settle on eating dinner at one of their usual haunts, and bicker about their food and where they're sitting and who's taking up too much room, and when they get home Sugawara will ask what they did and listen to it with that horrible half-pitying smile that he seems to reserve for Oikawa these days. And then they'll go to sleep side-by-side in his room and everything will be friendly and fine and just the same.

He's suddenly too tired to picture it anymore.

Maybe there's a chance. Over dinner, maybe after they eat, maybe when Iwaizumi's got his guard down and has nowhere else to go and nothing else to do but sit there and talk to him...

 _The ball's in your court,_ says Sugawara in his head.

 _I know,_ Oikawa thinks. _I know._

***

Unfortunately, he's forgotten how easily games go awry.

Maybe one second you're in control, but the next one belongs to your opponent and they can do whatever the hell they please, no matter how badly it screws up your own plans. That's how it works.

Iwaizumi chooses to yank him forcibly outside by his collar the moment he sets foot inside the apartment.

"Whoa, Iwa-chan - grabby! What are you doing?"

"We're going to see that movie," says Iwaizumi, closing and locking the door behind them one- handedly with surprising deftness. "Or did you forget? Come on, if we're any later they won't even let us in."

Oikawa stares at him, appalled.

"Get going Shittykawa, you can give me excuses about your disappearing act when we get there."

"Haha," says Oikawa a little weakly, "Sorry about that." He tries to free himself from Iwaizumi's grasp and fails. "But can't we just go get dinner or something? There's no point now. We'll miss the previews, and all of the exposition, and by the time we get there probably half the earth will be taken over already and we won't know what happened." Iwaizumi looks unconvinced, so he continues, "I looked up the reviews. It's supposed to be terribly confusing."

"You should've thought of all that before you decided to run off somewhere while I was in the shower," says Iwaizumi, and summarily drags Oikawa down the stairs.

They take the subway down to the theater. Oikawa sits silent and mutinous for the first five minutes, staring down the other passengers around them. He gives in when he realizes that Iwaizumi's not about to. That, and he does feel genuinely bad about throwing a wrench in their plans - he just wishes they could go anywhere else, instead of the one place where they can't talk to each other for two hours.

"I suppose I owe you an explanation, Iwa-chan," he sighs.

Iwaizumi's leaning back against the seat and has his eyes closed and his hands clasped behind his head. Behind him, the window pane is blurred with passing lights and the brightly colored advertisements on the tunnel walls. "Try me."

He opens his mouth to answer, and it strikes him that he can say absolutely anything - the flippant remark he'd planned on making to hold Iwaizumi over until they can sit down and have a real talk, some flimsy excuse about an errand or a favor or a phone call, even the truth.

He swallows.

Iwaizumi opens one eye. "You know what, never mind," he says. "Something tells me I probably don't want to know anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Oikawa asks indignantly, deflating.

"Means that we're here."

Iwaizumi gets up before the subway car stops lurching completely, holding onto the handrail for balance, and Oikawa looks around and realizes that yes, they are in the shopping district now. Iwaizumi offers him a hand up, and he takes it, feeling distinctly uneasy; of course, when he finally _wants_ to address things with him, the jerk makes it impossible.

The uneasy feeling lingers as they emerge into the darkening city streets and work their way through the evening crowds. There's a palpable high of relaxed cheer in the air - these people are out for post-work drinks, or shopping, or maybe a movie like them, Oikawa thinks; they're the kind of people who like to get their weekends going on a Thursday. He probably looks just like one of them, actually, and yet being here isn't exactly putting a sense of relief into him.

When they reach the theater, Oikawa only has a second to soak up the warmth and the scent of popcorn before Iwaizumi's hurrying them along to the front booth for tickets.

"We're lucky we made it," Iwaizumi says after he procures them, pushing Oikawa along the carpeted hallway as he scans the signs outside the screening rooms. "I don't know what the cut-off time is, but we've got to be close."

"I said we could've just gone for dinner," Oikawa mutters petulantly.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

By the time they find their theater, the movie is indeed underway. The other viewers, scattered around the room, are all silent and settled already. Iwaizumi heads down an empty row in the back and Oikawa follows him to sit on his left.

"Told you there was no point," Oikawa hisses as he takes the armrest between them. "The aliens have already been introduced and everything, and that's the best part."

"Be quiet and watch the movie," Iwaizumi hisses back.

He tries to. He forces his eyes onto the screen and watches as the aliens, which are unimaginatively humanoid and gray, engage in a shaky-camera fight with a group of bank tellers and lose. He watches as the military arrives and takes control. He starts to lose focus as they're taken back to a sterile white laboratory.

Sometimes, the more cliche sci-fi movies he watches start blending together after a while. And it's especially hard to pay attention when he can't stop thinking about how the night was supposed to go.

He takes his phone out of his back pocket.

"Oikawa," grits out Iwaizumi through his teeth.

Oikawa ignores him and begins drafting a message.

**iwa-chan**

Iwaizumi's own phone lights up from his lap, and he glances at it and quickly turns the screen brightness down.

_**what. do you want.** _

There's a tiny _ping_ when Oikawa receives the message, which he flinches at.

**i have a question**

_Ping. Ping._

_**could you not, i dont know, ask it later??** _

_**sometime that we're not in the middle of a movie?** _

_Ping._

_**and set your phone on silent good grief** _

Oikawa looks up at the screen. A woman in a white lab coat is giving a report to a gathering of people seated around a conference table. He's never been less interested in aliens before in his life.

Steeling himself, he types another message as quickly as he can, and without reading it over, hits send.

**why'd you break up with sasaki?**

There's a long stretch of silence. His heart pounding, he watches Iwaizumi pick up his phone, stare, and tap out a short reply.

_Ping._

_**later** _

Iwaizumi very deliberately pockets his phone and stares straight ahead at the movie.

Oikawa's fingers fly over the keypad.

**what**

**no**

**not later**

**you cant do that**

**why did you break up with her?**

**i talked to her. she told me to ask you**

Even though the screen lights up in Iwaizumi's pocket, he continues watching the movie with intense concentration.

Oikawa huffs and leans over to shove his own phone in Iwaizumi's face. Iwaizumi, with obvious reluctance, slides his gaze down and reads the messages. And then drops his hand onto Oikawa's knee.

"Just watch the movie," he orders in a low voice, giving his knee a little shove. He doesn't remove his hand.

Oikawa looks down very slowly at it, uncomprehending, and inhales shallowly. He puts his phone away just as slowly. _Like handling a skittish animal,_ he thinks wildly. _Don't move too fast._

He looks back up and fixes his eyes on the movie screen, and has no idea what's happening. Iwaizumi's hand is hot, almost unbearably so, through his jeans.

"Iwa-chan," he whispers, heart in his throat.

Iwaizumi looks over at him; he continues to look straight ahead.

"Why'd you break up with her?"

There's no reply.

"If it's because of what happened," he presses on softly, dread tightening his chest, "you made a mistake. I already apologized to her. I know she'll forgive you. You don't have to hang around with me and live with me again and sit through a crap movie I know you hate just because you think you ruined things with her - "

Iwaizumi's hand finally leaves his knee, the imprint of it disparately cold, and Oikawa stops talking and thinks _now you've screwed it up_ , but his hand only relocates to rest on Oikawa's wrist. Oikawa stares down at it.

"Hey," whispers Iwaizumi before he has time to analyze that.

Oikawa turns his head to the right, barely breathing, as the warmth of Iwaizumi's fingers closes around his wrist - he must feel how fast his pulse is racing underneath, nervous and rabbit-like. The scene in front of them is casting blue and white onto half of Iwaizumi's face as it plays out, washing flickers of iridescent color across one cheekbone, his forehead, the bridge of his nose; his eyes are very steady and light-filled and he looks incredible, and is leaning in and kissing him full on the mouth, warm and soft.

_Oh._

Oikawa closes his eyes for two seconds, and then opens them and pushes Iwaizumi away to take a gasping breath.

"You're not drunk this time, are you," he says.

Iwaizumi laughs quietly. From this range it's the best thing Oikawa's heard - or felt, or seen, he can't be sure which; he leans in to swallow it and Iwaizumi hardly objects. He parts his mouth slightly until Oikawa does the same.

And then he deepens the kiss ( _when did he get so good at this stuff?_ ) and all of Oikawa seems to shut off, his limbs, his brain - especially his brain. Really everything except for his lips, and the side of his jaw, which Iwaizumi's fingers are now tracing, and his wrist, which Iwaizumi's other hand is still encircling, thumb to the pulse point. He's melting. He probably hardly exists anymore. _A person shouldn't be allowed to kiss like this,_ he thinks dazedly, _least of all Iwa-chan._

He's getting bolder himself, reaching up his free hand to card roughly through Iwaizumi's hair and feeling a responding shudder, when a hand taps him politely on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, sir," says a nervous voice, "but we have a strict no-phones policy while the movie is showing - "

Iwaizumi pulls back immediately as Oikawa thinks _oh fuck, no, not again, why._

"Right, of course," Iwaizumi says with impressive composure, not at all like someone who's just been rebuked for making out in the back row of a B-rate sci-fi flick. "We'll see ourselves out."

The usher stammers an apology while Iwaizumi stands up and heads down the aisle. Oikawa looks at his retreating back, then at the flustered usher, then back at Iwaizumi before he finally collects himself and follows him out.

"You never answered my question," he says the moment the heavy door swings shut behind them, and he has an inkling, of course he does, but he just wants to be sure.

Iwaizumi looks at the movie posters plastered on the wall, then at the ground, then at a spot just above Oikawa's left shoulder. He puts his hands in his pockets. Oikawa's breathing has gone uneven by the time he finally lifts his gaze.

"I didn't know the right way to put it in words."

Oikawa thinks about this, and then thinks he might be blushing, which is confirmed when Iwaizumi starts to smirk. "How uncouth, Iwa-chan," he says to hide the fact. "Defiling me like we're two impulsive teenagers on our first date. I'm really not that kind of boy, you know."

"Uh, the state of my hair says otherwise."

He realizes that he doesn't even care to defend himself. His chest is so light, and yet so full of - emotion, air, something indescribable - that he can barely stand it. It's happiness. He's painfully, terribly happy.

Iwaizumi's staring at him strangely, but Oikawa can read it for once. It looks like longing; it looks like a mirror of his own expression. It looks like hope. It looks good on him, open and honest, but it also looks like a question.

"Come here," he says, holding a hand out, and that's all it takes, maybe all it ever would have taken.

Then he's being backed into a wall and is kissing his childhood best friend for - not that anyone's counting - technically the third time that night.

The third time is still just as unbelievable. But Iwaizumi is real against him, alive and warm and heartbeat-steady.

It's all he's ever wanted, and it's, for the first time, within his reach.

He doesn't let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments!

**Author's Note:**

> forgive any errors, hope you enjoy


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